


Safe Deposit Shell Game

by yanagi



Series: slap in the face. [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-24 15:49:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21960466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yanagi/pseuds/yanagi
Summary: Tony finds out that he's got a mess of safe deposit boxes in his name. How to sort out the mess?
Relationships: None
Series: slap in the face. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580914
Comments: 55
Kudos: 409





	Safe Deposit Shell Game

Safe Deposit Shell Game  
yanagi

Betaed by Jake and Jordre

A/N: — I am without beta as one of my lovely ladies had heart surgery and neither one of them is up to the work anymore. (It turns out that they’re up and running again.) Also, I am no longer posting on Fanfiction, it’s gotten so that I have to re-edit everything to remove odd symbols and formatting data. I’ll continue to post links on my LiveJournal and Dreamwidth.—

.

Tony sighed wearily and pushed back from his desk. He was still dealing with the aftermath of his ‘escape’ from NCIS. 

Abby was still a bit in his black books but she seemed to be truly sorry for her behavior and was keeping her distance. She waited for a firm invitation before she did anything, even going so far as to say she wouldn’t even email or text him, only answering when he contacted her. Besides, she did find all the mess Sr. had left him so he could deal with it before it came back to bite him in the ass.

His neighbors could actually take a page from her book on that. They were constantly calling the police, the unwanted Home Owners Association, and the City Council. He was seriously thinking of getting a restraining order. The police wouldn’t even come by; the desk sergeant called to make sure he wasn’t playing his piano at midnight and that was all.

His email binged so he opened the app and checked. He was a bit confused when he read it, forgetting all about Clark sending him a message about collecting all the deposit boxes and bringing everything somewhere so he could look it all over. 

It took him a few seconds to make sense of the message. “Damn it, Senior, what the fuck are you up to? So many boxes. Bet there’s a butt load of crap and a few dollars. Anyway …” He messaged back that he’d take a look, just give him an address.

He got a message back within seconds, “Come to the office ASAP. We’ve got shit sorted. There’s a butt load.”

Tony shrugged then texted back. “On my way.”

He spent the drive over wondering what the hell. He was soon to find out that what they had was only the American fraction of the whole. 

He parked in the visitors section of the office building and went up to the offices of Bishop, Bishop, and Keaner. He greeted Clark and Evan then said, “Okay. What’s going on?”

Clark made a disgusted face. “That’s what I’d like to know. You just skimmed that list before you sent it, didn’t you?”

Tony nodded absently. “I did just skim the deposit boxes, I was more interested in the boats, cars, and houses. So, what kind of mess did Sr leave me?”

Clark sighed then rubbed his face. “That’s why Dad’s here.”

Evan nodded. “I’m afraid there’s some pretty questionable stuff here.”

Tony eyed the man then said, “Ex-Federal Agent here. Illegal or just hinky?”

“I’m not sure. That’s why we wanted you to look at all this stuff before we did anything with it.” Evan opened the door to one of the larger conference rooms and ushered Tony in, Clark followed.

Tony eyed the large space which was now lined with tables. “Okay. Any idea where to start?”

“Just turn right and go around the room. Decide what you want to do with something and an aide will take it, make notes and we’ll deal in bulk.”

And so Tony started sorting the mess out. Clark had set up a whole team of legal research assistants and junior lawyers to deal with them, or hand them up the line. Jewelry he put into three categories, keep, sell, store. The keep pile was small, just pieces he really liked and knew he’d wear regularly. The sell pile was all the tacky stuff he knew his father had bought to impress someone; he wouldn’t be seen at a dog fight in any of it. The store pile was comprised of things he liked but were too expensive for everyday, such as the smoky diamond French set or the pale blue sapphire tie tack. The French set was intended for use with a French tuxedo shirt and included six diamond shirt studs and three plain gold headed ones; and two sets of cuff links, one diamond on both sides, the other diamond on one side and plain gold on the other. The tie tack was a stick pin with a sapphire surrounded with diamonds intended to be used with a cravat.

There was also a lot of gold and platinum in mint bars or coins. He thought long and hard before he decided to put all of that in a deposit box right here in the law offices. 

There were a few pieces that concerned him a bit. Like, where the hell did Senior get an authentic Tiffany egg that wasn’t in any catalogue that Tony could remember. He was sure it was Tiffany, as one of the things that had always interested him was authentication. He’d taken a couple of courses several years ago and was very good, although he wasn’t certified.

Another was a small Russian tryptic that was so obviously from some royal collection that Tony was sure it was hot as a forge fire. He frowned at it for a moment then put it aside saying, “Need to see if we can find that in any catalogue of stolen items. And this…” He pointed to a Byzantine dagger. “I know that’s stolen.” A legal aide made notes, then took the dagger and tryptic away for further research. Tony called after him, “See if you can find out who they belong to now.”

He finished that table in about an hour and moved on to an amazing assortment of guns, and a few more knives.

The guns were sorted into antique, un-fireable, and valuable; antique, fireable, and valuable; modern, reproduction, cheap; modern, rare, and valuable. Tony realized that several of the antiques were one of a kind; he had those put in a vault so he could put them on display at his place later. Most of the other guns he told Evan and Clark to sell after cleaning and refurbishing. He did keep the Beretta 93r. He’d always wanted one but they had been priced out of his range. 

He was contemplating a .32 ACP 3032 Tomcat by Beretta when it hit him. “What the actual fuck is Senior doing with all these guns? He’s not a collector, as such, so… why? I think all the modern guns should be checked for a tag.”

Clark paled. “Oh, shit. I never thought. What if we’ve destroyed evidence of some sort?”

“No problem. It’s not like we have solid proof of anything, just general suspicion. What we need is a private lab to test fire them all. I don’t think we need to bother with the antiques and reproductions, unless some of the revolvers… send anything newer than flint or match lock for testing. Send all the test fire analysis through …” He noticed that both Evan and Clark were looking a bit glassy eyed. “Just send them to a lab and let them do their thing. They’ll be able to tell if anything has been used in a crime.” He smirked as he had an idea. “If one has, we have Senior in possession of a weapon used in a crime. If we’re really lucky we can… not sure exactly what, but mess with his life.”

Evan looked pleased with this. “That would be nice. He’s been a pain in my ass for years. We’re on several of the same boards and he’s contrary just for spite.”

Tony nodded absently as he poked at a knife. “Okay. So, knives and swords just sell unless there’s something truly unusual about it. Now. Papers. God.”

Clark took over, pointing at several piles. “These are stocks and bonds that have your social, but Anthony Dominic DiNozzo Sr. on them. We can convert the bonds easily as the social is what they go by. So, my suggestion is to just cash the bonds and add that to your personal account. The stocks might be a bit more difficult but we can get it done and add them to your portfolio. The rest of this stuff is all either private correspondence or books. We’ll have our accounting staff go over them, with your permission, and see what’s going on there.”

Tony shrugged. “I don’t really care about his personal correspondence. Love letters to some mistress a third his age?” Tony shuddered dramatically. “No thanks.”

Clark nodded, made a note then said, “I swear I could write a book about his bad behavior and make a fortune.”

Tony snickered, “Like McGee did, just make sure you file deep enough.”

“Excuse me?”

“File off the serial numbers and publish away. Just make sure he can’t sue you.”

Clark smirked at Evan and held out a hand. Evan handed him a silver dollar that had changed hands between them since Clark was sixteen. “I hate you… just a little.” Evan held up a hand, thumb and index finger held about an eighth of an inch apart.

Tony spent the rest of the day going through papers and small black books. He was disgusted to see that several of them were fuck books. He had never even thought of using such a thing, it was too juvenile.

At six Clark came by to tell Tony, “You’ve done all the important stuff. The crap on that table is just more love letters and fuck books. There’s a couple that should be burned, the rest are just… stupid. He gives stars for God’s sake.”

Tony straightened up and rubbed his back. “I swear, everyone says I’m an immature frat boy, but no one says anything about him acting even worse than I ever imagined. Seriously?”

“Come on, let’s get something to eat.” Clark just dragged Tony out the door.

They left, leaving Tony’s notes for the associates and aides to sort. 

.

Tony had class, so he dragged himself out of bed and ran. He was now running nearly four miles three times a week and had increased his lung capacity to almost what it should be. The scar tissue in his lungs was softening too. 

After his run he showered and made breakfast which he ate on his way to his lecture. 

He’d found that he really liked lecturing, especially this specific class. There were three Marines in the class and four ex-Navy. This led to some spirited exchanges due to the rivalry between the two services. He’d had to call them to order more than once but he could tell that they were just heated words.

After taking attendance Tony announced, “Good morning, everyone. Today’s lecture is on action scenes. I’m a big fan but there’s a few glaring errors that really put me off. Anyone want to offer an example?”

A hand was raised toward the front, one of the Marines. “Yes?”

“The forty shot revolver. Drives me nuts.” He looked around, several of the other military were nodding their heads.

“That’s a good one. One scene, which we’ll view later, has a six shot Colt fire more than twenty times without a reload.” A girl raised her hand. “Yes?”

“Couldn’t they have reloaded off screen?”

“They could have. But you need to show it at least once. And, in this case, speed loaders hadn’t been invented yet.”

Another hand went up. Tony nodded to the woman who stood up and said, “The old shoulder to the door thing. Just… no. Ouch.”

Tony chuckled. “Cop?” She nodded. “As a former Federal Agent, I can assure you that it hurts like hell and sometimes doesn’t work.”

A voice called out, “Why not?”

Tony smiled at that. “Carpentry. In the ‘good ol’ days…” he made air quotes, “door frames were fairly strong. In the late 1890’s they got gradually weaker until, by the 1930’s or so, they were just nailed in in a few places and the lock plates were screwed in with the shortest screws around… so a shoulder could usually take them out. Then, in the late 70’s they started getting stronger again. And the lock plates are screwed in better. In fact, go home, unscrew one of the screws; if it’s less than an inch long, replace them. Now, you have to kick it several times so your protagonist would be hurt before the fight even started. I suggest the use of a door knocker, saves wear and tear on the body.”

The woman nodded and sat down again.

A stocky boy wearing a football jersey held up his hand. “I was wondering… coach told us about a one-hit homicide when a couple of the guys got into a fight in the locker room.”

Tony thought for a moment then said, “Good plot point but makes a really short fight scene. But it’s a real thing. I’ve seen it myself. You punch someone, they fall and hit their head on something… the corner of a desk or table or even just a concrete floor, and they fracture their skull and die. Several of my cases were like that… one, a chief petty officer got into a fight with a civvie and hit him, knocked him down; he hit his head on a parking bumper.” He noticed several confused faces so he explained, “One of those concrete things in a parking lot. He died right there. So… a one-hit homicide could be called a two-hit. You hit them, they hit the ground. Manslaughter is the best you can hope for.” 

The question and answer session continued for the first half of the class. 

The second half consisted of watching clips that demonstrated all the points Tony had made during Q&A.

The class time was nearly over so Tony got everyone’s attention then said, “Great. Excellent Q&A. Read The Great Gatsby and watch the movie. Do not read the Cliff’s notes version. Laziness will not benefit you.”

Someone said rather loudly, “I’d really like to spend one class Q&A on the differences between the notes, the book, and the movie.”

Tony chuckled, “Everyone is going to hate you. We’ll do that for this book, make sure everyone knows.”

There were a few moans and some bitching but nothing out of the ordinary.

He packed up his papers, tucking them into a messenger bag that he’d gotten into the habit of carrying. He was a bit overwhelmed with work what with correcting essays, doing the Q&A for the online lectures, and answering emails from students from nearly every university and college in the city.

He was also relying on his Teaching Assistant Hamilton Bowman to deal with a lot of things. He was awed and a bit disconcerted by the amount of work he was allowed to have Ham do. He was informed that all he really had to do was make the lesson plans, lecture as needed, and supervise mid-term and final exams. He was seriously thinking of turning the online lectures over to Ham. They were pre-recorded, so all Ham would have to do was start the playback and deal with the Q&A. And, as Ham had informed him, he was a Teaching Assistant so he could get experience teaching.

If he did that, he’d have a great deal more time to play his piano and do art. He’d also have more time to deal with the mess that his father had left the businesses in. Tony swore that he’d intended to run them into the ground, that he hadn’t was testimony to the robust nature of the DiNozzo holdings. He was considering visiting all his corporations in person. 

He left the lecture hall and headed for his car. He was about half way there when he ran into Dr Aspacian his department head. 

“Dr. DiNozzo! A moment?”

Tony stopped and smiled. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

“We’ve had a bit of a problem with scheduling. Your summer semester is cancelled. Our largest lecture hall can’t handle the number of students who want to take the class so, instead of first come-first served or a lottery, we’ve decided to cancel it. I know that puts you at some disadvantage but I was hoping it would give you some time to get all your class notes published and do some of the other housekeeping you haven’t had time for yet.” He grimaced, “It’ll also give us time to get the new lecture hall finished. It’ll accommodate all the people who want to attend.”

Tony sighed, he really been looking forward to the lecture series he’d had planned for the short summer semester. “Well, what is, is. I’d appreciate you sending me a list of all the things I need to do. I’ve never done this before, you know.”

Dr Aspacian waved a hand. “No worries. I’m well aware of that but you’re the best in the whole Eastern Seaboard. I’ll have my secretary get in touch with yours. So the semester ends in two weeks, I hope you have some plans?”

Tony recognized the fishing expedition for what it was. “No. I’m just waiting on my legal people to finish up some investigations into fraud relating to my trust. I’m probably going to be tied up in court most of the summer. This will actually be good. I’ll have more time to work on legal briefs and such. As well as my art and music. I’ll manage fine. Thank you for the heads-up.” Tony shook hands with the man, waved to a couple of students, and strode off.

He made it home in record time; frankly, he was tired and wanted to be home instead of fighting traffic so he used the Lexus’ speed and maneuverability to get through the streets in record time.

After changing into sweats and throwing together a salad for lunch, Tony settled in front of the TV to watch the news. He was listening to a report on street repairs with half an ear when his phone rang. 

“DiNozzo.” 

“Tony! It’s Evan. You need to come in… now! I’m looking at the results of the tests on those firearms. We’ve got a problem. I don’t want to talk on an unsecured line.”

Tony actually took the phone away from his ear and looked at it. “What? I… never mind. I’m about 45 minutes out. Get all your results organized. We might have to turn all our evidence over to… someone.” 

Tony hung up with a sigh, finished his salad in three huge bites and went to change clothes. 

He decided on a pair of tan dress trousers, a dark green button down shirt, and a tweed jacket. He tucked a green tie with red dots into his pocket and headed back out.

.

It didn’t take him long to get to the offices of Bishop, Bishop, and Keaner. 

He parked and trotted in the door. He nearly ran Clark down.

“Tony. Man, this is such a mess. You won’t believe it.” Clark motioned for Tony to follow him.

Tony hurried after him, saying, “If it has anything to do with Senior… Yes, I would believe it. He’s a con, pure and simple.”

Clark led Tony into a large conference room and motioned for him to sit at the table. Tony sat, eyed the pile of papers with a jaundiced look then picked up the top one.

He read for a moment then said, “Well, that’s not bad. Put away without cleaning, now unsafe to fire. So?”

Clark sat opposite him as he said, “That’s the not that bad pile. Most of those guns are in need of some TLC to get them working again. The farther down the pile you go the worse it gets.”

Tony eyed the reports. “And this has you in a panic? Why?”

“Well… the worst of the mess is in the other pile. The evidence is… interesting. Four of the guns have come back with a body on them.”

Tony groaned. “Well, shit. Who can we tie in? Finger prints? Anything else?”

“Not with the guns. They were all wiped clean before we got them. The reports say that the murders were more than ten to fifteen years ago.”

Tony grimaced then offered, “There’s no statute of limitations on murder… in almost any country in the world. So… give all that evidence to whatever country wants it. What else?”

“We’ve got proof of fraud, money laundering, embezzling, industrial espionage, and a half a dozen other crimes. I’m all for turning the whole mess over to the FBI and letting the chips fall where they may.”

Tony thought about that for a moment then announced, “I’m not looking at any of that. I’ve got a… sort of friend in the FBI. Let me call him and see what he says.”

“Okay. But put it on speaker so I can listen. I do not want you to incriminate yourself somehow.”

Tony nodded at Clark. “Okay.” 

Tony dialed, then put it on speaker. They listened as it rang several times then Tobias Fornell answered, “Hey, DiNozzo! Heard about your little tantrum. You ready to take me up on my offer?”

Tony chuckled, “No. But I’ve got some info for you. Problem is… it’s my ol’ man. He’s put me in the soup.”

“No. We’ve been trying to get him for years. Whatever you’ve got, send it. I’ll claim confidential informant. Everyone’ll know who it is, but no one will do anything to you.”

“Yeah, like Slacks will pass up an opportunity to charge me with murder, or treason, or something.”

“He will. He’s been transferred to some podunk outpost in Alaska. He pissed off the wrong assistant director. I’m sorry about him, in more ways than one. So… send me the info and I’ll do what I can.”

Tony thought for a moment. “Why don’t you come to the offices of Bishop, Bishop, and Keaner and get it.” Tony paused for a moment while he eyed the piles of evidence. “And bring a van.”

Fornell choked on something. “A what?”

“Van. There’s a ton of shit here.” And with that, Tony just hung up.

.

Leon Vance, the new Director of NCIS, was in a quandary. Gibbs was a pain in his ass but he was good. However, his MCRT was down two and he had a very bad reputation for running off probies. DiNozzo wasn’t coming back and Ziva was more or less incarcerated in Israel, so he had to assign someone to the team that both Gibbs and McGee could tolerate. 

He finally got four files that he thought might work out. He sent them down to Gibbs and crossed his fingers, figuratively speaking.

Gibbs returned them within the hour with a one word comment. “Dorneget.” 

Vance eyed the note for a moment then shrugged. Probationary Agent Ned Dorneget hadn’t been one of the files but, if Gibbs wanted the man, he’d have him. He just hoped that Gibbs didn’t eat the hesitant young man alive.

.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs wasn’t much for beating around the bush so, when Ned Dorneget entered the bullpen, he just pointed to the desk formerly occupied by Ziva David and said, “Your desk.”

Ned eyed him for a moment then said, “Okay.” He put his messenger bag down on the floor and turned his computer on. He waited while it booted. 

“Um… there’s no… there’s nothing on this computer.”

Gibbs shrugged, “So… put something on it. As McGee and DiNozzo will tell you, I’m a Luddite. I don’t like computers much, although I use one when I have to. So, if you want something on your computer, put it on. If you blue scream, tell Tim.”

“Um… Blue screen. So, if I want a program I just get it?”

“Ask Tim. Seriously, I don’t know. If I want something, I have Tim set it up.” Gibbs eyed his second monitor, the one dedicated to the East Coast feed. 

Ned eyed Gibbs, realized he was distracted by whatever was going on on the monitor and just started downloading every program he thought he might need. He hacked the admin. protocols to install everything without express permission from the IT department. 

As soon as he was done his email pinged. He checked to see that he had over 300 emails. He sighed and started reapplying his filters.

Gibbs snorted then said, “Filters didn’t transfer?”

“No. I swear… why on earth would I want a Daisy Cup?” Ned reapplied another filter.

“What the hell’s that?” Gibbs had a vague idea but wasn’t sure. And he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.

“Um… Not sure you really want to know. The only reason I do is because of the emails trying to sell me one.”

“Okay. Anything useful yet?” Gibbs eyed an email from Tony’s legal firm.

Ned shook his head. “Got a couple of interesting things from… um… Tobias Fornell? And Bishop, Bishop, and Keaner… regarding… Anthony Dominic DiNozzo, Sr. and… Damn. Gibbs, I think you need to take over on both of these. I’ll send you copies.”

“Print it out.” Gibbs scowled, he wanted most emails printed out so he could annotate them. In other words, he scribbled all over them in different colored pens and highlighted stuff in different colors. It helped him integrate the data. Or that was what Tim said. He just knew it helped him figure out what was going on.

Gibbs turned to the printer and eyed it. “Dorney, come get this bunch printed out for me. They’ve changed the printer overnight.”

Tim came in just then and demanded, “Who changed what?”

“Printer. Last night.” Gibbs eyed the thing with disgust. “Why can’t they leave well enough alone?”

Tim put his coffee down on his desk. “Because they have to be seen doing something or they lose their jobs and… if we don’t use the budget we lose it. Let me see.”

Ned got out of the way and just watched. He was computer savvy but not quite as good as Tim, yet.

Tim finished getting all the files sent to the printer, then returned to his much despised chore of reworking all the reports he’d fudged before Tony left. Gibbs was still working on Ziva’s. He sighed and opened the second box, he still had two to go.

Ned returned to his computer and getting some files organized. He knew all about the fiasco with Ziva’s reports and had absolutely no sympathy for either Gibbs or McGee. If you took a job, his opinion was, you did it right; if you weren’t sure, you asked for help.

.

Anthony Dominic DiNozzo, Sr. accepted the package, signed the thing the deliveryman shoved into his hand, then turned to go back into his ‘borrowed’ apartment. Tony would never know he was living in one of his apartments in NYC.

The deliveryman cleared his throat but got the door shut in his face for his trouble. He scowled at the door then turned away, muttering, “Have a nice day, jerk.”

But Senior was not going to have a nice day. The package contained a pile of legal papers whose meaning boiled down to two things; he needed a very good lawyer, right now; and, he should stay out of the US.

He snarled and threw the papers across the room. 

After he’d had a couple of stiff drinks, he called a lawyer. The man refused to take the case, stating, “I don’t like you. I won’t represent a guilty man. Goodbye.”

Senior brooded for a while then called Bailey Holmes. 

Mr. Holmes told him to send all the paperwork to his office and to stay out of the US. If he was still in the country, he was to leave immediately.

Senior packed quickly and headed for the airport, dropping the package into the mail on his way. 

He made it to DC where he was supposed to change flights.

He got as far as the main concourse, towing his wheeled suitcase behind him.

Security approached him, just one man but he was tall and broad and had a no-nonsense expression. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to come with me.”

“I don’t have time. I have a flight out in an hour. I’m a very important businessman and don’t have time for you to search my luggage for apples or whatever.” Senior tried to push by the man but a large hand around his biceps stopped that.

“I’d say I’m sorry but anyone who abuses their duty like you is going down hard. Come quietly, or not; I don’t care. But you will come with me.”

Senior followed the man into what was obviously a holding room. It was bare except for a couple of plastic chairs and a small table.

He waited for nearly an hour, missing his flight, then was told that he wasn’t to leave the country. He took back his paperwork, ticket, and checked. “Where’s my passport?”

“Confiscated. You’re not leaving the country, so you won’t need it.” The official didn’t even look up from his clipboard. “You can leave for home any time.”

Senior glowered for a moment then wisely just left. He made his way to the main concourse and started for the West doors to get a cab. He paused at the sound of a familiar voice.

It was a German businessman that he’d done some investing with. He decided to see if the man had flown in his private jet. If he had, it was possible that he’d give him, Senior, a ride to where ever he was going.

“Herr Bechen, fancy meeting you here. I was late… business went over, you know how it is. I was wondering if we could discuss a bit of an investment on the flight to… where was it we are going?”

“I am going to Italy. You… are not. Not on my fight at any rate. I’ve tried to get in touch with you several times to ask when I’ll be getting a return on my investment. And do not tell me things fell through.” Herr Bechen gave Senior a dirty look. “And you have yet to either explain or make arrangements to return my investment.”

Senior gave Herr Bechen an apologetic smile and said, “Well, it is an investment, not a loan. So, when the… er… hotel?… begins to make a profit, I’ll start giving you your percentage of the net.”

Herr Bechen scowled. “The contract clearly states that, if the spa does not begin to show profit in two years, it defaults to a loan. We are now in year four. See to it, or you’ll hear from my American legal people.” And with that, he turned and stalked off, clearly done with Senior and his lame excuses.

Senior scowled at Herr Bechen’s back. “Well, how the hell was I supposed to know that the site was some sort of sacred something or other. They’re not even Christian.” Senior didn’t know and didn’t care that the state of Hawaii had declared the land he tried to buy a sacred, protected area in the 1960’s. He didn’t care much about anyone or anything except himself.

He made his way to the West door and hailed a cab. He made it all the way to the Adams House before he was picked up for trying to leave the country.

The men in bad suits approached him the second he got out of the cab. “Mr. DiNozzo. You need to come with us.”

Senior was indignant immediately. “What? I don’t need to do any such thing. What do you want?”

The man pulled a wallet out of his inner jacket pocket, flipped it open, then shoved it in Senior’s face. “FBI. You’re under investigation on charges of treason, industrial espionage…” He sneered, “and I’ve forgotten what else. Oh! murder, at least three counts.” He turned to his partner. “I’ll Mirandize him?” The other agent nodded. So he began to read the Miranda Warning off a card while pushing Senior in the general direction of a black van.

Senior wasn’t one to be pushed around so he protested. “See here! I’m a very important man. You can’t treat me like this.”

Tobias Fornell didn’t like Senior so he took umbrage at anything he did. “Yes, we can. We’re the FBI. You’re not that important and the charges that Agent Mendez mentioned are only the tip of the iceberg. Now… you can come quietly… or you can make a fuss. If you make a fuss it won’t go well for you, so please make as much fuss as you like.

Senior jerked away from Agent Mendez, snarling, “Take your hands off my $2000 suit, you… you cretin. I’m not going anywhere with you.” He jerked again, slapping Agent Mendez in the face as he did so.

“Okay, that’s it. Fornell, you saw that, right?” Mendez pulled his cuffs off his belt and started to cuff Senior. 

Senior flailed his arms and yelled, “You can’t do this to me. Do you know who I am? I know some very important people. I’ll have your job for this.” 

By now people were staring at the group, two of whom were people who were considering investing in one of Senior’s projects. When they overheard the words fraud, treason, and industrial espionage, they started making calls. 

Senior Agent Fornell helped Agent Mendez get the cuffs on Senior. As soon as they did so Fornell gave Senior a shake and ordered, “Stop that. I know who you are. You’re an entitled jerk in an expensive three piece suit. Just you wait until we get you to lock-up. I bet you’ll look great in orange. Now, get in the car. If you resist anymore we’ll love to hog tie you. Move!”

Senior moved, he was aware that both agents weren’t impressed with him and weren’t going to put up with his usual antics.

.

Tony finished his lecture even though he felt his phone vibrate and curiosity was killing him. He eyed his notes then announced, “Okay, people, that was a really good Q&A. And I believe we all agree that Cliff’s notes are really meant to be a study guide, not an alternative to reading the book. We’ll be covering bad grammar and when and why it’s allowable. Read Cannery row and watch the movie before then. That’s all.” He picked up his notes and stuffed them into his messenger bag.

As soon as he was out of the hall he got out his phone and checked missed calls. The call was from Evan Bishop. He dialed him and waited impatiently as the phone rang.

A very professional woman’s voice said, “You have reached the offices of Bishop, Bishop, and Keaner. How may I help you?”

Tony eyed the phone for a moment, he’d dialed direct. “Um… this is Tony DiNozzo. I thought this was Evan’s direct line.”

“Hello, Professor DiNozzo. Yes, it is. But both Mr Evan and Mr Clark are working on your father. I believe Mr Evan called you about twenty minutes ago?”

“Yes, he did. I was at lecture so I couldn’t answer. What did he need?”

“He wanted to tell you that your father is under arrest for trying to leave the country as well as that list of charges that caused his passport to be pulled in the first place.”

Tony stopped walking then said in a dazed voice. “Mind repeating that… slowly?”

The operator did so then said, “By the way. I’m Valerie. I answer the private phones when the person can’t. You’ll speak to me from time to time. Especially if Mr. Evan or Mr. Clark are in court. Please come in. You need to sign some papers.”

“Okay. Valerie. Um… Be there soon.” 

Tony put his phone away and headed for his car. He waved at various people who called to him but didn’t stop to talk. He was not in the mood for a chat.

.

Tony was a bit surprised to be met by Tobias Fornell instead of Evan or Clark Bishop.

“Toby. To what do I owe this pleasant meeting?” Tony’s expression put the lie to his words.

“Well; one, Senior’s in lock up. Don’t know how long he’ll stay there. Two, I’m pretty sure we can pin at least one murder on him, maybe two. And three, I need you to press charges on him for trespassing. He was holed up in your apartment in New York City. So… if you charge him, we can keep him until trial. We, as in the FBI, want him out of circulation for as long as possible. We might be able to make a case that he’s a flight risk as he flew from NYC to DC and was trying to board a plane to… parts unknown.”

Tony smirked at Fornell as they walked into the office side by side. “You produce papers and I’ll sign, depending on my lawyer’s advice of course. But… Senior needs to be taken out of circulation. He’s pulled too many stunts on unsuspecting… clients for me to be comfortable allowing him any leeway, so lead on.”

Tobias was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth so he just directed Tony to Evan’s private office. “In here. There’s a pile of shit to sign. Evan’s been working overtime to protect you. You are now one of my CI’s. Congrats an’ all that.”

Tony snickered. “Well, it’s better than I expected… I guess. Seriously, you really think you can make the charges stick?”

Evan spoke from behind his desk. “We can make it all stick. His passport was pulled at JFK but he managed to flim-flam his way past the gate and get on his plane. When he tried to change flights here in DC all the alarms that should have gone off there went off.”

Fornell added, “He should have been caught there but he’s fast, made it all the way to the Adams House before we caught up to him. We’ve got him now.”

Evan took back control of the explanation. “And, when you sign all this, he’s staying in lock up until his trial. So sit down and start writing.”

Tony sat.

It took him nearly thirty minutes to read and sign all the statements, requested charges, and complaints. He finished then flexed his hand several times.

“Nearly got writer’s cramp. I hope this keeps Senior out of trouble for a month or so.”

Fornell smirked happily. “Oh, he’ll be out of circulation for a bit. After he is tried here, we’ve got extradition demands from three Middle Eastern countries. State is inclined to acquiesce to their demands.”

Evan handed all the files off to his aide with a few instructions. “There. You’ll probably get several demands for interviews from various agencies. Don’t do a thing without me right there. I’m sure that a couple of people are out for heads… make themselves look good.”

Tony shook his head. “Not going in by invitation, if they want me, they’ll have to get a warrant.”

“That’s my man. Excellent. Now, go do something fun. Shoo.” Evan flapped his hand at Tony who got up, nodded to Fornell and walked out.

.

Tony returned to his lecture schedule knowing full well that he was going to be so busy this summer that the cancellation of his summer classes was a God send. Ham was going to run all the lectures as evening lecture classes for credit toward his teaching certificate. Tony gave his approval and forgot about it.

He had plans for the summer; getting his yard into shape, doing art, playing his piano, overseeing getting his finances into order, checking on his companies like DiNozzo Trucking, LLC. He was also considering getting all his notes on writing an essay into order and publishing it on a small scale. He knew he was going to get all his notes and lecture materials into some sort of publishable order and using that as his required reading. 

He was also looking forward to simple days with Gibbs, working on something then having steaks. Tim could be invited too. He was still a bit pissed at him but he was trying so hard that Tony didn’t have the heart to snub him. Gibbs had flat out groveled, in his own way, so Tony was more than ready to forgive him, after all, he hadn’t meant to slap him. Abby, on the other hand, was still a bit in his black books. She was trying to force her way back into his life by including herself into his plans with Tim and/or Gibbs. Jimmy and Ducky were never in a place where they needed forgiveness.

The next week went quickly and Tony gave his last lecture with relief, he was really ready for the break. He loved teaching and sharing his obsession with his students but it could be really tiring when six lecture classes asked the same question over and over. He was glad he’d decided to keep a list of the most commonly asked questions to make sure that they were answered in lecture instead of using up class time. 

He groaned when he realized that this meant editing his recorded lectures. He’d have to ask Ham what to do about it before the next semester started. But that was a concern for another day, maybe never. Ham might have an easy fix. Or Tim might.

His drive home was easy and he spent most of it wondering what sort of shit Senior had dumped him into. He was aware of most of it, but things were still popping out of the woodwork. Gibbs was furious, Tim was confused, Abby was… well, Abby. She was still sure that it was some sort of misunderstanding. Tony was having less and less to do with her as the days went on. She was still trying too hard and he was getting tired of explaining to her over and over again. He hoped things looked up.

.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs had a set of rules to lead his life by. He had thought they were set in stone, now he realized that they had to be fluid or he was going to ruin said life. 

Rule Number 6: Never apologize, it’s a sign of weakness. Amended: Unless you really screwed up. And he’d really, really screwed the pooch.

He wasn’t good at verbal apologies, so he was glad that Tony realized that all his offers of help around his house were non-verbal apologies. 

Right now he was busy checking the perimeter of the property for weaknesses in the security system.

He was just about at the middle of the back of the property when someone yelled at him.

“Hey! You’re not allowed here! That’s public land. And tell that jerk that we’re gonna sue him for blocking access.”

Gibbs just bellowed back, “It’s private property and the owner has every right to fence it. Check your survey. Jerk!” He ignored the contradiction of being told to leave public land, although he did wonder how someone could call property that had always had a wall around it public.

This was met with a couple of swear words that made him snicker. He answered back with a string of curses that were based on childhood eavesdropping, sixteen years in the Marine Corps, and, to date, twelve years in NCIS. This was met with some rustling and retreating footfalls.

Gibbs tilted his head. Tony was coming home, he could hear the distinctive sound of the Lexus.

He trotted to the gate to wait for Tony, as he waited he examined the gate for weaknesses.

Tony opened the gate, drove through, then parked. “Hey, Jethro, what’s up?”

“Just checkin’ things out. There’s a couple of places you need to have some work done on. And what’s with the guy over the fence in the middle?”

“He’s a jerk. Get in and I’ll drive you to the house.”

Gibbs got in the passenger side but didn’t bother to fasten the seatbelt. They were only about 300 yards from the garage.

It didn’t take them long to get into the house. Tony made coffee while Gibbs sliced the cake he’d gotten at a bakery. The first time he’d brought a cake Tony had teased him about hidden talents. He’d said, “Only hidden talent I have regarding cake is how much I can eat.” 

Gibbs eyed the coffee maker then said, “You got a degree in engineering I don’t know about?”

“No. Why?” Tony turned to shoot Gibbs a puzzled look.

“That thing is so complicated that it looks like you need one to run it.”

Tony scoffed at that then produced a cup of plain coffee for Gibbs and, with some hissing and sputtering from the coffee maker, a cup of hazelnut cappuccino for himself.

“Okay. What’s the weak point and what needs to be done about it?”

Gibbs shrugged. “The gate is a bit weak, and I’m not sure about that tree at the back of the property. One, it hangs over the wall more than I like and; two, it’s an ash and I think it’s got Ash Borers. If it does, it should be cut down before they spread.”

Tony nodded. “So, you call your friend and set it all up? Or do you want me to do it?”

Gibbs sipped his coffee with evident enjoyment. “I’ll be glad to do it but I didn’t want to overstep. I’m still on thin ice with you and I know it.”

Tony shrugged. “You’re making friend cred by leaps and bounds. We’re good and reaching best quickly. Tim’s still a bit iffy but I know he’s working on it. Abby? What the actual fuck?”

Gibbs grimaced in annoyance. “I have no idea. She’s working with a therapist but she seems to take two steps forward and one step back. She’s so invested with us as family that I doubt she’ll ever really accept the fact that you’ve moved on.” He finished his coffee then handed it back for a refill. “I really think that most of a lifetime in law enforcement entitles you to do what you want now that you can afford it.” He grinned over his fresh cup. “I watched one of your lectures, it was really interesting. You obviously love the subject. I didn’t understand some of it but I enjoyed it.”

Tony’s delighted expression made Gibbs wonder, not for the first time, why he’d taken such delight in shaming Tony for his movie interests.

Tony poked Gibbs in the side. “Let it go. Over, done, water; all that. Now… tree?”

“I’ll take you out and show you what I’m talking about. Come on.”

Gibbs led Tony to the middle of the back wall where an ash tree was. It was about two feet from the wall with several large, climbable branches hanging over. It was also full of Emerald Ash Borers.

Gibbs pointed. “See… the canopy is thinning. That’s the leaves and young branches. They’re dying. And it’s already too late for it. See the new shoots coming off the roots?” He peeled back some bark. “You’ve also got… see the white, S-shaped marks? And the bark is slipping. You need to get this out now, before it spreads.”

Tony looked around. “I don’t have any other Ash trees, do I?”

“No, but the beetles can fly and they’ll infest nearby trees and, knowing this bunch, someone will try to sue you for it. I’d treat anything nearby, just in case. That way you can say you did due diligence.”

“Okay. You call, I’ll pay. If you need me, I have some shit to deal with. Senior is going to be a fuckin’ pain in my ass for years to come. And thanks for dealing. Lunch is on me.”

Gibbs started to refuse then changed his mind. “Okay. I’ll make the call now and sorta lean on Bill to get out here ASAP. That tree really needs to come out now.”

Tony just headed for the house, secure in the knowledge that Gibbs had this in hand.

.

Tony was still wading through a pile of legal briefs when Gibbs came to call him outside.

“Tony! Are you at a stopping place?” Gibbs stood back about two feet to avoid looming over Tony.

“Sure. It’s about time I stopped before I have a stroke. What do you need?”

“Bill wants you to come out so he can explain what he needs to do. Insurance thing. You need to sign the work order.” Gibbs’ grimace let Tony know what he thought of all that.

“Okay. Let’s go. As someone once said, Soonest started, soonest ended.”

They walked out to the back shoulder to shoulder.

Bill greeted Tony, offering his hand to shake. “Hi. Sorry to see this. Your ash is going to have to go.”

Tony just nodded. “I’ll replace it with something else. Your advice?”

“Not an ash.” Bill grinned. “In fact, due to security considerations, I’d advise against replacing it with anything that will grow enough to overhang the wall.”

Gibbs frowned for a moment. “Maybe some sort of big bush? Like an heirloom rose? Or a lilac?”

Tony nodded. “Either one sounds good. Or… I don’t know the name but they’re popular in Italy and France. Tall, thin, they line the roads with them?”

“Italian Cypress. I’ll have to check to see if they’ll thrive around here but I’ll find something on that order if they won’t. So… some of these trees grow forty feet tall and ten feet in circumference. If you want to line the whole property, it’ll be a bit expensive. But … privacy would be a big plus.”

Tony thought. “Let’s see what it looks like without anything before I decide. When are you going to cut?”

“Tomorrow. It’s a bit late to start tonight. I’ll have a dumpster delivered so we can cut it up and get it out of here. It’ll have to be burned off location.”

Tony took the clipboard Bill handed him, read the work order, signed it, then handed the clipboard back. “Tomorrow is Saturday, so you can start the job whenever you’re ready. It’s the end of the semester, but I’m not sleeping in; it messes with my sleep cycle.”

“I’ll have the guys up early then. Seven too early?”

Gibbs snorted. “Not for me. I’ll be here to help out just because I’m bored most weekends. If I don’t get a case that is.”

Tony snickered then added, “Even if you do get a case. You’re as curious as two cats.”

Gibbs laughed softly. “Not even denyin’ it.”

Bill just shook his head. “You two. You might as well be brothers the way you act. I’ll be back at 0700.” He tucked his clipboard under his arm and trotted off to his truck. He could open the gate from the inside but it needed a code, remote, or both to open it from the outside.

Gibbs eyed Tony for a moment. “That what we are?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, I think so. We argue, fight, make up; then do it all over again. I don’t know what bug you got up your butt and I don’t care. You treat me right, I’ll treat you right. We’re friends, we had a fight. I left an untenable situation. Jen was trying to force me to do something I knew wasn’t right. That’s really why I quit. That slap was just the ignition point. So stop feeling guilty.”

Gibbs studied Tony’s face for several seconds. “Okay. Look, you’ve got that great grill in the gazebo… I could bring steaks tomorrow for after the tree comes down?”

Tony nodded happily. “Never turnin’ down one of your steaks. I’ll invite Tim and Abby, if that’s okay with you.”

Gibbs shrugged. “I was going to suggest it. Ducky and Jimmy are on duty but I’ll call them anyway. Never gonna hear the end of it if we don’t.”

“Okay. Sounds great.” Tony eyed his watch. “I was expecting a call from Evan about now. Come inside and make coffee while I get situated to take notes.”

Gibbs headed for the house with Tony a step behind. “Okay. I’ll just make regular coffee. You want one of those frothy doohickies, you can make it yourself.”

“Okay.” Tony snickered to himself, Gibbs was never going to figure out that part of his coffee maker because he didn’t want to.

The ring tone that Tony had assigned to Evan went off so he answered as he hurried to his desk. He needed to sit there so he could take notes.

“Evan. Talk to me.”

“Your old man wants to speak to you. We’re still accumulating charges against him, but he seems to believe that you can get him out of jail.”

Tony actually took his phone away from his ear and looked at it. “He what?”

Evan’s exasperated grunt was followed by, “He thinks you can get him out of jail.”

“And why would I do that? That doesn’t even make sense. And, well, you know he’ll skip. But just for curiosity’s sake, what’s the bail?”

The amount made Tony whistle softly, it was enough to buy a very nice house. “Yeah? And I got stupid, when?”

“Exactly. But I’ll advise you to go speak to him. Who knows what sort of confessions you might get out of him.” 

Tony thought about that then said, “Only if you and Gibbs are both right there in the room with me.”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at Tony who shook his head then mouthed, Tell soon. 

Evan was silent for a moment. “I can arrange for it Monday after noon, and not a second earlier. I’ve got court, and I don’t want you anywhere near that asshole without me. Gibbs is also a good idea.”

“That’s good. I’ve got a tree removal tomorrow and a cookout. I’m not really looking forward to this but… it is what it is.”

Evan agreed. “It is. I’ll call you with the details as soon as I have them. Enjoy your Gibbs steaks.” He hung up without saying good-bye.

Tony eyed Gibbs for a moment then demanded, “How do you do that?”

Gibbs wide-eyed expression was everything Tony had anticipated. “Do what?”

“Teach people to hang up without saying Good-bye. It’s rude. What if I wanted to say something else and didn’t know you’d hung up? Anyway. Dad’s trying to guilt me into bailing him out. Not gonna do it, but the FBI and Evan want me to meet with him to see if I can’t fake him into talking. I need you there. Evan agrees. Can you come?”

Gibbs just asked, “When do you need me?”

“Monday, sometime after 1200. Evan isn’t sure yet. He’ll call when he knows.”

Gibbs nodded. “I can swing it. Vance evidently met Senior at some time or other. Doesn’t like him at all. He’ll be glad to give me time to nail that jackass.”

“How’s the team shaking out? I worry, you know. Tim’s good, but Dorneget? He’s green as grass.” Tony picked up the cup Gibbs had set on his desk. 

“Dorney is working out well. His Mother is CIA, so he’s a bit of a dark horse. Knows a lot more than he lets on. Tim’s a bit better of a… hacker? But Dorney is really good at setting up parameters for searches and he learns really fast.” Gibbs was happy with his new team, as happy as he could be. Dorney was training up quickly and Tim was learning all the things he should have learned while Tony was SFA. “Tim’s also finding out that you did all your paperwork and all mine while you were SFA. He’s catching up but he’s still asking me questions I don’t know the answers to.” Gibbs sighed. He was now doing all his own paperwork as Tim had flat out refused to ‘pull a Tony’ and do it for him. 

Well, he was Team Lead.

Tony finished his coffee and paperwork at the same time. He stretched then groaned. “Man, I thought SFA paperwork was killer. All this shit is in legalese, gives me a headache. And I still have some essays to grade. And grades to do. Those are due…” Tony consulted his calendar. “in four days. I need to bang that out soon.” He looked at Gibbs who was looking at some of his paintings. “You stayin’ or what?”

“I’ll stay. This is good.” He waved his hand at a landscape. “You going to frame it?”

Tony nodded. “I am. But I need to mat it before I frame it. And I can’t decide what color mat to use.”

Gibbs frowned at the painting. “I… show me.”

Tony put the painting on his drafting table then got out a rack of corner samples. “Here. I use these …” he waved one of the cardboard pieces, “to see what a whole mat might look like. With these I can try up to four colors at once. But I’m really just deciding between this green and that blue.” He pointed to the colors in turn.

Gibbs eyed the two corners then said, “The green. I think the blue is a bit too bright. What do you do next?”

Tony removed the samples. “Well, since I use standard cuts, I just keep a few precut mats on hand so…” he rummaged around, looking for the mat he wanted. “Ha! Here we are.”

Gibbs watched as Tony glued a piece of plain white paper to the back of the mat then dried it with a heat gun. “Now I put the painting under the mat and stick it down.” he pulled a sheet of waxed paper out of a drawer.

Gibbs eyed the sheet for a moment then said, “What the hell is that?” He reached out to touch one of the semi-transparent blobs. “It’s sticky?”

“Snot dots. I use them because they’re pH-neutral and just sticky enough. If I use glue the acid will eventually discolor the paper, sometimes it goes all the way through to the front. And, if you need to reposition it or re-mat for some reason, glue will pull off bits of the finish. So… snot dots.”

Gibbs picked one off the backing and pinched it. “Wow. Weird… but useful.”

Tony nodded. “I remember when we made them ourselves out of gum arabic or rubber cement. Now you can get them from Wal-Mart.”

“Bet they don’t call ‘em snot dots.” Gibbs pinched the dot again then snickered.

“No. Not elegant enough. Now they call ‘em repositionable glue dots. Or some other PC name. They’ll always be snot dots to me.” 

Gibbs snorted. “PC? Don’t believe in it. It’s just common politeness with a fancy name. So… after you stick this all together, then what?”

“Put it in a frame. I prefer not to use glass but I still use spacers, give it a bit of a different look.”

Tony sighed. “Poke around if you want. I need to finish those essays. I’ve read for content but I still have to correct their English. Grammar, spelling, adjective word order, and punctuation are… poor at best.”  
Gibbs nodded, “I actually had to tell Dorney Determiners, Observations, Size, Shape, Age, Color, Origin, Material, then Qualifier; he had adjectives in all sorts of inappropriate order.”

“It’s actually killin’ me. Takes hours.” Tony scowled at an essay.

“Okay, mindin’ your business like a pro. Finish correcting these last few but return all the essays with a note that this is the last time. Next semester just tell ‘em that you’re not going to correct their English, make sure they know that they’ll lose a grade point for bad English, then let ‘em go. They’re in college, let them research their own damn mess.”

Tony sighed softly. “When you’re right, you’re right. Here.” He handed Gibbs the worst offender, “Have fun.”

Gibbs took the offending essay, put on his glasses, got a red pen, and went to work.

It took about half an hour to finish the few essays then another fifteen minutes or so to do up the grades. Tony shoved the whole mess into an envelope and called for a college messenger to come get it and take it to the office. He was really glad that students were expected to pick up their final essays and grades themselves. 

The messenger arrived, took the package, listened to detailed instructions while taking notes, then left with a wave and a, “Got it all in notes, sir.”

Tony eyed his watch; it was late but not too late. “Want to watch the news with me or go home?”

Gibbs, recognizing the gesture for what it was, said, “I’d stay, but I’ll be back in the morning. Go to bed… well, whenever, but early would be a good idea.”

“Yeah, see you at seven?”

Gibbs nodded, then headed out. He was going to make an early night of it too. Basement, boat, bourbon wasn’t cutting it anymore. He was more of a go-to-work-then-read sort these days. He was going to finish his boat, sooner or later. 

Tony watched as Gibbs drove his truck through the gate then set the alarm. He watched the news then went to bed.

.

The next morning was nice, so Tony took his coffee out to the gazebo along with a muffin he’d baked himself. He also took the press-pot full of coffee and several more muffins. 

He expected Gibbs soon and wasn’t disappointed. He’d only been sitting in the gazebo for about fifteen minutes when the gate rolled open to Gibbs’ security code and he drove through, followed by a roll-back which dropped a large dumpster near the gate, then left. Gibbs made sure the gate was closed, then parked to the side of the parking area.

“Coffee?” Gibbs sat down at the table with Tony.

“And muffins. I’ve got banana nut, flaxseed, and apple.” Tony pushed the plate over to Gibbs along with a mug. “Coffee in the press-pot.”

“Thanks. Bill should be here soon.”

Tony pulled his remote out of his pocket and opened the gate. “I’ll just open the gate for him. We’re right here so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Gibbs frowned at his muffin. “If it is… I’m shootin’ someone.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll call the cops and have them arrested. They usually just stand outside the gate and scream at me. I take revenge by playing piano until the dot of midnight. There’s an ordinance that says all sound above… I forget exactly how loud, but it’s loud… anyway, it has to cease at midnight. I set an alarm.”

Gibbs snorted. “I hope you play that loud one over and over.”

“Which loud one? There are several I know.” 

Gibbs thought for a moment. “Third movement of Rachmaninov’s Second Sonata? Or… um…”

Tony agreed. “That’s consistently fortissimo. There’s also Ligeti’s The Devil’s Staircase, or Holtz’s War.”

Gibbs displayed his knowledge, gained from paying attention to Tony for the last couple of months, “I thought that was orchestral.”

“It is, but it’s been transcribed for piano. I don’t think it’s as effective but it is a nice piece. And loud.”

Gibbs nodded. “Well, if they continue to bother you, you might consider suing them as vexatious nuisances. Just make sure you have plenty of evidence.”

Tony agreed, saying, “You’re right. There’s four cameras that cover the back and two on each side. I keep all the footage from them on a server. I also copy anything interesting to Evan’s office. They’ll step over the line sooner or later.”

Gibbs glanced at the open gate. “Bill’s here.”

They finished their coffee while they waited for Bill to park, check the dumpster, and his paperwork. He ambled over, climbed the four steps up to the gazebo, and settled at the table. “There any coffee left?”

Tony produced a third mug. “Of course.” He poured the mug full and offered it to Bill. “So… how is this going to work?”

“Same way building the gazebo went. We work, you watch. In fact, Gibbs is watching too.” he turned to glare at a scowling Gibbs. “No. My guys are experts, work as a team. You know what adding an odd body does to teams. So stay in your lane.”

Gibbs chuckled then said, “Okay, okay. I’ll stay out of it. Should have had them drop that dumpster closer to the back.”

Bill disagreed. “Nope. Not gettin’ my ass stuck in the lawn. Ground is soft as mush. We’d just have to haul that dumpster, plus the truck, out and that’d mess the yard up. We’ll just hump it.” He smiled slyly. “You could help with that. Don’t know how you could hurt yourself haulin’ brush.”

Tony snorted. “You don’t know me… do you? And… does ash burn well? I’m getting a chiminea… just for that bit of whatever you want to call it by the front door. I can see it through three different windows, and I’m getting a breakfast set and a lounge chair for there.”

Gibbs made a face. “I wouldn’t. It’s full of bugs… remember? Get a wood rack when you get everything else. I’ll see about gettin’ you something that smells nice. Like some oak or hickory. And be sure to get a chiminea that’s big enough. I’ll cut the wood to size for it for you.”

“Thanks. And you get whatever you think is good. I’m content to light a match and leave everything else to you. And I’m saving the ashes for winter. I hear they’re great for scattering on ice and don’t rot your undercarriage like salt will.”

“They’ll rot it worse. Wood ash plus water equals lye. Don’t do it. Get an ash bin and have it emptied once a month. That just happens to be a service I provide. As well as seasoned wood.”

Tony eyed him for a moment then allowed dryly, “Nothing like self-promotion but I’ll take the deal.”

Bill chuckled, saluted him with his mug, and said, “I’ll have paperwork by Monday.”

They all turned to look at the gate as someone honked. It was the crew. They all hopped out of the Chevy Silverado crew cab and started getting their equipment out of the bed. 

One man came over to Bill while the others headed around the back. It was actually a bit of a hike due to the size of the lot but a hundred forty yards wasn’t that far to active young men. Or even active middle-aged men.

“Okay, we’re here. That Ash will be down and dusted in no time.”

Bill put his mug down. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get cocky. That’s how people get hurt. Come on.”

They all ambled back to the tree to work out how they were going to drop it. They needed to be careful or the tree would make up its own mind which way it wanted to fall and that wouldn’t be a good thing.

Bill and the crew chief consulted for a bit then called the junior member of the team to go get some rope. 

Tony looked to Gibbs for enlightenment. “What?”

“Tie the rope up high on the trunk, then put some tension on it. Makes the tree fall the way you want it to. We don’t want that tree falling on the wall, it’ll take out the security fencing at the top.”

Tony squinted for a moment then nodded. “I see. Well, that gives us a chance to help. We can put the tension on and that leaves the whole crew to cut down the tree.”

Bill overheard this so he replied instead of Gibbs. “Only if you sign a waiver that allows my insurance to cover you if you get hurt. Here.” He smirked at Gibbs. “Gunny, you know and I know, you’re not gonna sit this out, no matter what I say.”

Gibbs smirked right back. “You know me oh so well.” He took the clipboard, read, then signed. Tony did the same.

It didn’t take them long to haul the chainsaws, ladders, ropes, and miscellaneous other equipment back to the back of the lot. The tree looked even worse than ever. 

Bill issued quick orders and everyone put on hard hats and hearing protection. 

The first step was trimming the top of the tree so one of the men actually climbed the tree and started cutting off the limbs with a 16-inch saw. He let most of them just fall to the ground but, when he started trimming on the wall side he tied a rope to them and lowered them. 

They’d only trimmed off a couple of branches on that side when someone yelled, “Hey! You can’t do that! Stop right now!”

Tony sighed, “Man, fuck my life. That’s Holden.”

Gibbs nodded. “You told me about him. Let Bill handle it.”

Bill, meanwhile, was putting a ladder against the wall, careful of the concertina wire at the top. He climbed up until he could see over the wall. “What?”

“You can’t cut that tree down. I won’t let you. I’m calling the police right now.” Holden was a rather small man with a red face and thinning blondish hair. 

Bill sighed, “You just do that. But this is private property and the owner has the right to mitigate any danger at his leisure. In case you don’t understand that… this tree is an Ash. It’s full of Ash Borers… bugs. If we don’t cut it down, the city will order it cut down. In order to stop the spread of the bugs. So… I’d suggest you get your head out of your ass and mind your own business.”

Holden had other ideas, they could hear him yelling on the phone. They knew the police would be there shortly so they just kept on doing what they were doing. 

Bill took the ladder down then told his crew. “Keep going. We want all this down before the bugs take a powder.” He smacked his forehead. “That reminds me. Jeff, get the sprayer and give this whole mess a good spray. Everyone else stand back. Don, keep cutting until Jeff gets back.”

So Don cut, ignoring Holden’s demands that he stop. The man was getting hysterical by the time the police arrived.

The two officers who ambled around the house and into the back yard were the usual two; Officer Pat Brady and Jr. Officer Bill Hansen. 

Tony greeted them with delight. “Hey! Brady, Hansen, nice to see you. So… deal… please?”

Officer Brady nodded. “What seems to be the problem?”

Tony shook hands with both officers as they spoke. “Well, that Ash is full of Ash Tree Borers and needs to come down now. Mr. Sanders is my go-to guy when it comes to lawn and garden. He’s cutting it down before the city gets to me. Mr. Holden is having a fit because of it. I’m not dealing. He’s the one who called you, not me.” Tony’s disgusted face let the officers know what he thought of the whole thing. “You deal. But I’m going to file a complaint about him harassing me about what I’m doing on my property and, if I catch him trespassing, he’s had it.”

Officer Brady nodded. “Got ya. I’ll warn him when I speak to him.” He looked around. “And how do we do that?”

Gibbs pointed. “You could climb that ladder. We’ll be happy to put it up for you.”

Pat eyed the wall with its razor wire top. “Um… nope. Not climbin’ that thing. We’ll drive around.” He motioned to his partner to follow him then turned around to head back to the cruiser. Officer Hansen followed obediently.

It wasn’t long before they could hear Mr. Holden yelling about walling off a public park, destruction of the tree, and several other things. Tony wondered aloud how he could possibly think that this area was public property as it was walled and had been since it was built in the 1900 somethings.

Gibbs decided to call Hank and ask. It didn’t take him long to find out that there had been a large collapse just about where they were now. He’d cut down the brush hiding it and repaired it at the same time they’d done the security setup.

Gibbs asked a few questions and didn’t like the answers much. He returned to the group which included Tony, Bill, and the crew.

“Well, Hank said that there was a hole in the wall right about here which he repaired when they did the security set up. He also cleared away all evidence of some kids playing here. Nothing like balls or anything like that, just some bare spots. So, they’ve been trespassing for years.”

Tony nodded. “Okay. I’ll put a notice in the paper, just to cover my ass. And… oh! here come Brady and Hansen.”

Officer Brady shook his head as he approached. “Man, that… idiot is delusional. I explained to him that a hole in a wall does not give him rights over someone else’s property. He’s calling a lawyer. He’s gonna sue. He’s so gonna lose. I’ll write up a report.”

Tony sighed. “I’ll send a copy to my lawyer and have him get a cease and desist order. I’ll sue him as a litigiousness nuisance.”

Gibbs snorted. “Along with dealing with three or four neglected companies, your old man, all the shit he’s dumped on you, being a professor, and I don’t know what else.”

Tony shrugged. “Work smarter, not harder. I’ve got a whole legal team to help me. And I have a secretary and a teaching assistant, and I can afford to hire in people if I need them.”

“Too true.” Gibbs sighed. “And I have a TDA just to help me catch up on Ziva’s FUBAR reports. Tim’s still working on his, and I’m proud to say he’s nearly caught up.”

Officer Brady politely ignored this byplay, then advised, “I’d get that tree down before that jackass convinces some judge that it’s valuable, or protected, or whatever.” He waved a hand.

Bill walked up just in time to hear that. “You’re right. So… back to work. I think we’ll just cut it down and deal with the mess. Fait Accompli. And we’re done. Come on.”

The two officers said their good-byes, promised copies of their reports, then left.

And with that, they were back to work.

Jeff gave the whole tree and the trimmed branches a good spray of insecticide and they went back to cutting.

It didn’t take long for the team to cut through the trunk at the base while Tony and Gibbs kept pressure on the rope to keep it from falling on the wall. They could hear Holden yelling over the sound of the chainsaw even through the hearing protection.

They ignored him, and his protests, continuing to cut the trunk into manageable pieces. Jeff and Tony carried the pieces to the dumpster and tossed them in.

Gibbs advised them to leave several pieces out to weight the brush down so they did and started dragging the branches and other smaller bits away.

It didn’t take them long to get the logs and brush loaded into the dumpster, call for pickup, and start putting tools away.

Gibbs and Tony said good-bye to Bill and his crew then went inside to have a shower and a second breakfast.

.

Tony was clearing up from breakfast when his phone rang. 

“DiNozzo.” 

It was Evan with the unwelcome information that Senior wanted an interview today. Tony replied, “Tell the old fart that he already has one on Monday. I’m not giving up a grilled steak for him.”

Evan snorted, he knew it was a fruitless request but, as Tony’s legal representative, he felt he should pass on the demand. He said, “Okay, and I’ll have to say that Fornell guy is really a bulldog. He said to bring, and I quote, ‘That asshat Gibbs,’ with you.”

Tony closed his phone, told Gibbs what Evan had said then remarked, “I’m not messin’ with Dad anymore. He screwed me over all my life. Now it’s my turn. So…” He clapped his hands. “Steaks.”

Gibbs nodded. “In the fridge, I’ll take them out about an hour before we grill. Who’s comin’ for sure?”

“Jimmy and Ducky are on duty. Abby’s not invited. Tim’s comin’ about five or so and bringin’ a pie. We’ve got potatoes and salad. Anything else?”

Tony checked the fridge. “Beer.” He counted bottles. “I’ve got enough for each of us to have two. Anymore and you’ll be stayin’ here overnight.”

“I’ll drink two but part of one will go on the steaks.” Gibbs smiled. “What kind of pie?”

“No idea. But I told him fruit. None of that calf slobber for me.”

They puttered around the kitchen, getting things ready and sharing gossip about various coworkers. 

Tony wanted the fire pit lit along with the grill, as it would be chilly after dark, since it was still a bit early in the season for warm summer nights. Gibbs obligingly turned on the gas for both and checked that they were clean and ready to light. He did like the fire pit, as Tony had decided that, while the smell of burning wood was nice, the mess was not. He’d had it converted to ceramic artificial logs which burned the same LP as the grill.

They managed to kill most of the day just fiddling around in the house. Gibbs polished some things he thought needed it, and Tony painted a bit, then played the piano.

Tim showed up at 5:30 with an apple pie. “Hi! I brought a pie like I promised. Need any help in the kitchen?”

Gibbs shook his head. “Not yet. We put the potatoes in about half an hour ago. Thought we could sit out and have a beer and share our week. By then the potatoes should be done. Salad is tossed and in the fridge. Pie?”

Tim admitted, “I had them slice it for me restaurant style. I have no idea how they manage to slice it into six slices instead of eight. But they did a nice job. It’s room temp so… maybe just put it on the counter?”

Tony called from his studio area, “Yeah, just find a place.”

“Okay.” Tim put the pie down near the fridge and settled in one of the refinished bar stools. “Love these stools. Really comfortable.”

Tony appeared around the corner, wiping his hands on a rag. “Just gonna wash my hands.” He started the water then said, “As to the pie. Our cook had a thing… no idea what to call it. It folded up but when you opened it it had arms with serrations. She pressed it into the pie then just cut on the dotted line.”

Tim nodded. “Penny had one. I never knew what it was for. I don’t think she even knows how to bake.” 

They all laughed at that. Penny, Tim’s grandmother, was a source of constant amusement to everyone on the team. The fact that she insisted that Tim call her Penny instead of Gran or something similar was also amusing.

.

They settled in around the fire pit to visit about nothing much. Tony discussed his art and his ideas for lectures. Tim happily told them about the program that he and Dorneget were working on; neither Gibbs nor the more knowledgeable Tony understood much, but they listened.

Tim wound down, then said, “Man, is it food yet? I’m starving.”

Tony burst into laughter. “Yes, it’s food. Right, Gibbs?”

Gibbs, who had been working on the steaks for the last few minutes, eyed them, then said, “Since we all like ‘em mooing, five minutes.” 

Tony got up, motioned to Tim, and said, “Okay, come on. I only have two hands.”

Tim obediently followed him into the house to bring out the salad, pie, butter, sour cream, and place settings. The potatoes had been transferred from the oven to the grill hot box twenty minutes ago.

As soon as they had the table set, Gibbs took the steaks off the grill and plated them up. Tony put a potato on each plate, then put salad in a separate salad bowl. 

“Okay. Gibbs, you’ve outdone yourself.” Tony cut into his steak and took a bite. He groaned in pleasure. “Man, yeah.”

Tim also expressed his pleasure with a sigh. “Right. So good.”

Gibbs smirked a bit as he said, “Thanks.” He took a sip of his beer. “Good beer.”

Tony just smirked, then went back to his steak.

They settled down to eat in companionable silence; the only conversation was to ask to have something passed their way. 

Tim finally pushed away from the table with a loud burp.

Tony eyed him, then offered, “Nice.”

“Sorry. It was just so good.”

Gibbs swatted Tim on the shoulder. “Manners.”

Tim snorted then snarked, “I’m savin’ ‘em for company.”

They all laughed at that, then got up to clean up the mess, get the dishes in the dishwasher, and put the few leftovers in the fridge.

Tony made coffee and finished the last of the cleanup by wiping down the counters. The coffee maker burped, signaling that it was finished, so Tony put the pot on the cork mat, then set mugs out.

Gibbs just poured coffee into his mug and sipped. Tim added sugar, enough to founder a goat, as Gibbs always said. Tony doctored his, then settled on one of the stools.

“Great. Tim… can you find out anything about the ol’ man without getting yourself in trouble?”

Tim put his mug down and went to get his messenger bag. “I’ll see what I can do. Most of the info should be public, but some of the legal stuff might be sealed until trial.”

“Do what you can. I just want to be forewarned. He’s up to something.”

Gibbs offered, “No matter what he’s up to, we’ll see he doesn’t succeed.”

“Thanks.”

Tim finished his investigation with a grumbled, “Well, public information is scant on the ground. His lawyers insisted on a blackout until he’s convicted. It’s uncommon, but not unheard of. Most charges are public but, since he’s involved in so many different investments, the boards have asked for a blackout so that this doesn’t affect their bottom line.”

Tony nodded. “I figured something like that would happen. So, what can you tell us?”

Tim read off the charges then added, “He’s managed to get Bailey Holmes to take the cases pro bono. He’s assembled a team who are all young sharks but… they’re in way too deep. Let me see…” He fiddled a bit then offered, “Your Dad is in over his head, he’s drowning in shit and just won’t admit it. The FBI, CIA, and Homeland Security all want a bite out of his ass. You’re going to have to testify against him.” Tim smirked at Tony. “Not that that’s going to bother you that much, right?”

Tony nodded. “Not like he was ever a real dad. All I knew about him was that he was a big businessman and very busy. When Mom was alive, it wasn’t bad; when she died, he shipped me off within the week. So… I really barely know the man, and what I do know, I don’t like. I just want to know what he wants from me so I can figure out how to say ‘fuck no’ without looking like an ass.”

Gibbs snorted his coffee, while Tim laughed so hard he had to wipe his eyes.

“Okay. I see. Well, rely on Clark and Evan and their crew to deal. If you have to deal with Bailey Holmes himself, who is his lawyer of record, it’ll be farther down the line.”

Tony sighed; he remembered Holmes as a slimy, slick asshole who just creeped him out. 

“I got it. I’m not actually talking to Senior if I can get out of it. I’ll leave the talking to you, Gibbs. Or Clark. Evan hates Senior with a passion.”

.

Monday came all too soon.

Tony stumbled out of bed; he’d tossed and turned half the night. He knew Senior was going to guilt-trip and gaslight him in an effort to get what he wanted. He also knew that Gibbs was going to lose his shit over it. 

After a long hot shower, he attended to his appearance. He’d decided on an Ermenegildo Zegna bespoke suit, an Italian bespoke shirt, and Berluti oxford shoes. He used the black diamond studs and links, along with a Chinese brocade tie and pocket square. He thought the dark blue color scheme looked good on him. 

He went downstairs to find Gibbs sitting at the breakfast bar. He pointed to the coffee maker and said, “Coffee.”

Tony poured himself a mug, doctored it, then sat to drink half of it in one long gulp. “Fuck.”

Gibbs eyed him. “Yeah.”

“I really don’t want to do this but… if we can get anything worth knowing…”

Gibbs nodded. “Right. Good cop, bad cop?”

“Not with him. He’s so self-centered it won’t occur to him that someone might actually hurt him. I’m not sure how to handle him.”

“How did you handle him when you were a kid?” Gibbs frowned for a moment, trying to remember any bit of information Tony might have dropped over the years.

“Mostly I didn’t. He shipped me off to boarding schools and summer camps when I was eight, right after Mom died. The few times I was home were unmitigated disasters. Like the space suit incident. How the hell was I supposed to know that one of eight nearly identical snow suits was his favorite? If it even was.” Tony finished his coffee and poured more.

Gibbs pointed to a hot bag on the counter. “Burrito.”

“Mmm. Thanks.” Tony unwrapped the burrito and took a bite. “Go’ ’anks.”

Gibbs snickered. “Mouthful?”

Tony just gave him the bird, grinning around his food as he did so.

“Okay. I’m ready when you are. We’ll just drive down, do this, then… do something fun.”

Tony swallowed thickly then took a gulp of coffee. “Sounds good to me. And… Boss?… No mercy.”

Gibbs just smirked at him and headed for the door. “Your car or mine?”

“Mine.” Tony wasn’t about to appear at Central Jail in Gibbs’ NCIS-issue.

Gibbs was quite aware that Tony didn’t want to appear at the jail in his, Gibbs’, nondescript NCIS-issue Toyota Corolla, so he chuckled, then headed toward the door to the garage.

“Okay.” Tony eased out of his spot. “I’m just going to say this outright. I don’t care what we have to do; I want to bury him. I’m tired of his shit. It’s always up to me to tow him out of trouble, fix his messes, and soothe people’s hurt feelings. I’m not doing it anymore. Boss, I’m just really tired of him.”

Gibbs agreed, saying, “I swear, the man is a menace. We’ll deal with him; he’s finally shot craps. I don’t even think the CIA will want him. He’s too dumb.”

Tony shook his head and paid attention to his driving.

It didn’t take them long to reach D.C. Jail, check-through, and meet Fornell outside an interrogation room. 

The room was bare, painted a gross grey-green, and smelled faintly of piss, vomit, and old sweat. 

Tony looked through the two-way mirror and shook his head. Senior was unshaven, dressed in prison orange, and jittering his leg. Tony knew this was a sign that he was very agitated; he had always told Tony that a real man was still unless he was moving with purpose. 

Tony glanced at Gibbs, who was studying Senior through the two-way. “He always jitter like that?”

“No. In fact, he’d get on me if I did it. Mom would tell him I was just a little boy but he’d smack both of us if no one was looking. He’s really agitated. Work it? Somehow?”

“Yeah. But… how?” Gibbs watched Senior for about five minutes more before he decided. “You go in. Work him up somehow. I’ll come in, chase you out and we’ll see what trips his trigger. Get him mad enough and he’ll let something slip.”

Tony snorted. “Get him mad enough and he’ll blab like a… something really talkative. He can’t keep his mouth shut to save his life. Always bragging about his great conquests or complaining that people don’t know their place or don’t realize how important he is. He’s a coattail rider. Anyone he does business with gets stiffed or figures him out before they give him too much money.”

Gibbs nodded. “Okay. Go.”

Tony sauntered into the interrogation room, dropped some files on the table, and pulled out his chair.

“Okay, what the hell?” Tony settled in the chair across from Senior and just glowered at him.

“You don’t take that tone of voice with me, I’ll smack that smart mouth of yours.” Senior puffed up like, as Ducky said, a poisoned pup.

“I’ll take any tone I want. You’re in a lot of trouble and asking for favors you’re not owed.” Tony frowned as he flipped though files.

“What? You owe me plenty. I raised you, paid for everything you ever needed. And this is the way you repay me? Ungrateful whelp.” Senior got red in the face and tried to stand up. It didn’t work as the cuffs pulled him back into his seat.

“I… you…” Tony took a deep breath, calmed himself then announced, “You didn’t pay for shit. Any money you spent on me was mine in the first place. As to buying me what I needed? You wouldn’t know what I needed if it bit you on the ass. Your assistants took care of all that, if you remembered to tell them to.”

Senior turned red then seemed to remember that he was actually asking Tony for a favor, or several. “Now, son, I’m a very busy man. I’m sure the staff at your schools took care of the details. But back to business. You need to get those charges dismissed. I was only managing your assets in your best interest. There’s been a mistake somewhere.”

Tony sneered in obvious disgust. “I know that. And the mistake was yours. You stole from me, kept my money from me, and ran my businesses into the ground. You’re only busy trying to bury your shit. You can’t really manage anything. You disgust me.”

And Senior fell right into the trap and lost his temper. “You’re nothing! Nothing! Do you hear me? If it wasn’t for me, you’d be some nancy boy with a fancy Oxford accent and no sense.”

Tony smirked to himself then announced, “Okay, I’m done. Deal with it.” He tapped his folders on the table then walked out.

Gibbs watched Senior as he raved, then, when the man was panting, walked in the door and took the same seat Tony had just abandoned.

“Well? When is Junior going to get me out of here?” Senior looked around like Tony was hiding in a corner or something.

“Never. Here’s a list. Sign it and we’ll see. Don’t sign and it’s GenPop for you.” Gibbs couldn’t help his annoyed sigh when Senior gave him a blank look; of course the man didn’t know what General Population was. “Just realize that, if you don’t sign that, there’s nothing we’ll do for you. Sign and we’ll see what we can do. And… you’ll never talk to DiNozzo again.”

Senior had always had a bad habit of just signing things if someone told him it was in his best interest, very odd for someone who claimed to be such a good businessman; but there you were. He signed on the dotted line, handed the papers to Gibbs then demanded, “Okay, so when do I get out of here?”

Gibbs shrugged, “Ask your lawyers. I’ve got to turn in all this paperwork. You’ll be informed.”

He left to turn the papers over to the legal team, but he was asked to return to question Senior about specific items on the list of crimes he’d committed. So Gibbs read a couple of files, then went back in.

He sat down and stared at Senior for several minutes before he slammed his fist down on the table and demanded, “So… who did you get to sign the papers to commit Maria to an alcoholic clinic? How much did it cost you?”

“She was a drunk. She needed to be committed for her own good. Judge Jacobs just saw things my way. After all, I contributed to his campaign fund, didn’t I?”

Gibbs made a note. Senior’s indignation grated on him but he knew what buttons to push. And push them he did.

“You contributed to several judges, senators, and congressmen, didn’t you? What did you hope to accomplish with all that gelt spreading?”

Senior gave Gibbs a disgusted look. “Jewish? Might have known. You people just don’t quit, do you?”

Gibbs sighed; the man’s prejudices just didn’t quit, but he was getting information. “No. Not Jewish. Just smart. I see you siphoned off a lot of money from DiNozzo Trucking, where did that go? It was wasted, I’m sure. If it wasn’t, you’d have money to post bail.” Gibbs also wondered where the money from Paddington Mills and Paddington Farms had gone, but he wasn’t going to ask; they had bigger fish to fry. “And the money invested in that spa in Dubai, the hotel in Monaco, and the golf course in Cali. Where did that go?”

“I invested all that in a deal with a gentleman named Benoit.” Senior gave a nod that said, ‘So there.’

Gibbs made a note then snarled, “Benoit? Some French dilettante financier? Epic.”

“No; Msr. Benoit deals in… acquisitions. You need it, he’ll find it. Very important import/export expert.” Senior puffed up importantly. “He’s a very good friend of mine. I know he’d be very offended if he knew how you’re treating me.”

Gibbs snorted. “Probably not. Don’t know what kind of deal you made with him, but it couldn’t have been much.”

Senior sneered, “Shows what you know. I loaned him a yacht. He made three trips from here to Iran on it. He said it was more than comfortable, and the large cargo hold made it possible for him to bring his personal car with him.” He gave another ‘so there’ sort of nod and sat back, unaware that he’d just tanked himself.

Gibbs shuffled the files until he found the picture he wanted. “This the yacht?”

“Yes. It’s very nice. I registered it to Junior so I could use some of the interest from his trust. Selfish little shit wouldn’t let me invest it but I did manage to get some of the interest. Useful, but it was pocket change.”

Gibbs produced another picture. “You know this guy?”

Senior started to answer but a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Gibbs snarled then barked, “Come!”

Fornell stuck his head in and said, “His lawyer is here. He’s pissed.”

Gibbs shrugged. “My heart’s broken.” He tapped his files into order and stood up. “Interview is over. No deal on the table.” He gave Senior the fish-eye. “Ever.”

Senior’s lawyer of record was Bailey Holmes but that didn’t mean he’d actually come to a jail to sit in interrogation; he just read some flunky’s notes and attended the trial. The man who came into interrogation was young, full of himself, and not real bright. The fire in his eyes was not going to survive contact with Gibbs.

“I have to insist that you cease questioning my client until I can consult with him. Please leave the room.” He gave Gibbs a smug look and settled in the chair next to Senior.

Gibbs just shrugged, nodded, and left, saying, “Fine by me. Questioning is over. He’s all yours.” He opened the door then turned, “Oh, by the way. There’s no possibility of a deal. He’s now classified as a terrorist and an arms dealer. Have a nice day.” He shut the door quietly; sometimes that worked better than a slam. 

Tony grinned at him. “We’ll see him in court.”

“That we will. You know he’s screwed, right?”

Tony shrugged. “No more than he deserves. I’ll visit him in prison.”

.

The court proceedings went just as expected. Defense claimed ignorance. Prosecution brought up ‘ignorance of the law is no excuse’. And Senior just looked confused; the world was not bending to his will as he expected.

The jury came in with a verdict of guilty on all charges. Tony sighed wearily, he knew Senior was going to harass him with phone calls again. Senior had called him several times a day with demands that he, Tony, had no way of satisfying, even if he’d wanted to. He’d finally complained to the jail and had them block his number so Senior couldn’t call him. 

He looked up as Senior began to raise a fuss, announcing, “I’m innocent. I’m just a businessman who got caught up in someone else’s underhanded dealings. I’ll make a deal with you. I know things. Get off me!” He jerked out of the bailiff’s grip and tried to get to Tony. “Junior! You have to get me out of this. I’ll ruin you. You’ll never work in law enforcement again. Your deal with Don Michael Macaluso will be all over once I get done.”

The bailiff regained his grip on Senior and started dragging him away. 

Tony just smirked at Senior and said, loudly, “My deal with Don Michael? It’s simple. I don’t go back to Philly and he doesn’t have me hit. Maybe you’ll be his bitch in prison.” He shrugged and motioned to the bailiff. “Get him out of my face, please.”

The bailiff dragged Senior away over his continued protests.

Tony turned his back and headed out to the parking lot. “Come on, Gibbs, I need to make a phone call.”

Gibbs nodded, he was as tired as Tony was. Senior had been a pain in their asses for the last three weeks. He was just glad that, because of the charges of treason, the trial had been pushed through at an astonishing pace.

“Who are you gonna call?”

“Don Mike. I don’t want Senior to play on my rep, or get himself killed.” Tony pulled out his phone dialing as he walked. “Or manage to leverage a lesser sentence somehow. I mean, what does he actually know that’s worth anything, anyway?”

“Not much. They’ve been sweating him off and on all month. Fornell is pissed. They’ve got enough to put him away for the rest of his natural life, but not enough to grab a bigger fish.” Gibbs frowned. “And why the hell are you callin’ the Don?”

Tony smirked. “To give him a heads-up. He’s not fond of Senior.”

Tony dialed, spoke to someone, then waited; settled in the car. It took ten minutes to get the Don to the phone.

“Mike! I just called to give you a heads-up. Senior just got convicted of a dozen felonies. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he finally wound up in Gitmo, but until then, he’s in the system. Just don’t whack him.” He listened for a minute then said softly, “Because, Papa, the dead don’t suffer.” He hung up, clicked his seatbelt into place and leaned back. “Let’s go to La Pantaloon for lunch.”

Gibbs, well aware of the toll this had taken, just started the car and headed for the restaurant. “Want to call McGee?”

Tim had managed to mend his bridges with Tony, much to everyone’s satisfaction. Tony was glad, because he missed the other man. 

“Yeah, and Ducky and Jimmy. Might see if Abby wants, but she’s still being a bit of a bitch about all this so… whatever.” Tony sighed.

Gibbs glanced at him then said, “You spring a leak?”

“No. It’s just that we still have the sentencing to sit through.”

“Yeah. But the judge isn’t gonna make us wait very long.”

Tony gave up on the subject and called Tim, Ducky, Jimmy, and Abby. They all agreed to meet them at the restaurant. Since it would take Gibbs and Tony around forty-five minutes to get there, it worked out well, as the three friends were at the Yard, and it would take them about the same amount of time from their location.

.

Gibbs parked and glanced around. “There’s Ducky’s SUV.” He pointed to the nondescript SUV that NCIS had issued to Ducky.

Tony glanced at it. “They’re probably already inside.”

They went in and stopped at the hostess lectern. The hostess told them that their party was already seated and waiting. She led them to a table where Abby was examining the menu and Ducky and Jimmy were discussing the relative merits of two different scalpels. Tim was doing something on his phone.

Tony and Gibbs took their seats and accepted menus and the information that their server was named Kitty. 

It wasn’t long before Kitty came with water; she gave Tony a flirtatious smile and asked, “Do you need a few minutes, or are you ready to order?” 

Gibbs did a quick check of the table and got nods or smiles from everyone. “Yeah, I’ll have the special.” As the special was a simple chicken Alfredo with Broccolini, salad, and garlic toast, the rest of the table wanted it too.

Kitty smiled, “Well that was easy. Drinks?”

Ducky ordered a bottle of white appropriate to the dish for the whole table, and everyone wanted water as well.

Kitty closed her order book, saying, “It’ll be about twenty minutes. I’ll bring out the bread and wine now, shall I?”

Ducky said that was fine, then returned to his conversation with Jimmy. 

Kitty went away and returned with the wine, garlic toast, and salads. She put them on the table then offered, “I can pour, if you like.”

“No, thank you, my dear. Gibbs will pour.” Ducky turned to Gibbs. “Jethro, if you will?”

Gibbs picked up the wine bottle and the first glass. He poured, then handed it to his left.

Ducky took a sip and nodded his approval. “Anthony, what do you think?”

Tony tried the wine. “It’s a very playful young white. Notes of peach, apricot, and almond. Very nice.”

Abby sighed. “I love it when you show off.” Gibbs gave her a sharp look. “What? He is. Who knows all that stuff about wine and not be a showoff?”

Tony poked Gibbs under the table; then, when Gibbs looked at him, shook his head.

Jimmy, however, took exception to Abby’s remarks. “Well. It’s not showing off when someone else asks your opinion. It’s also not showing off when you know what you’re talking about and just want to describe something you know about.” He glowered at Abby who stuck her tongue out at him.

Gibbs sighed. “Abby, be nice. You’re still on thin ice and it’s getting thinner instead of thicker.”

Abby pouted but it didn’t do any good. She sighed, then said in a plaintive tone, “Is it so bad that I just want my happy family back together again?”

Tim gave in to his impulsive side and snarked, “It wasn’t that happy in the first place so… yeah, it is. Tony isn’t coming back. Personally, I’m ashamed of myself and the way I treated someone who only wanted the best for me. I’m done apologizing because Tony has accepted. Now I’m doing my best to prove that I can be a good friend.”

Tony managed to look a mix of uncomfortable and pleased. “Tim…”

“No, Tony, she needs to hear this. Oh… and I’m taking the online classes. Really good. No, I won’t tell you my screen name.” He grinned.

Tony looked put upon for about two seconds. “Okay. I get it. So, Abby, for the last time. I’m not coming back. I’d like to remain friends but I’m not putting up with any sort of shit. If you take a class, use a name I won’t recognize and don’t expect an easy A.” He took a sip of his wine then said, “Change of subject.” He turned to Gibbs. “What sort of sentence is Senior gonna get?”

Gibbs sighed, then offered, “Well, he’s been convicted of several counts of fraud, murder, smuggling arms and drugs, passing classified information, and industrial espionage. So, just on the murder charges, three life terms. But the real killer is treason and passing information. That’s Gitmo for sure. Unless the judge is a real jackass.”

Tony frowned. “And if he is?”

Ducky offered, “I know the man. Not a jackass. He’s more of a hardliner. I’m afraid that your father is due a life sentence for each murder, several years on each count of fraud, and a one-way ticket to Gitmo. That’s before the military gets their hands on him.”

Jimmy winced at that. “Ouch. Is it possible that he’ll do a stretch in Leavenworth before he goes to Gitmo?”

Abby sighed, “And he’s so nice too.” This got her outraged looks from everyone at the table. “What? He is.”

Tony looked like he didn’t know whether to start shouting or just leave. 

Gibbs took a deep breath then let it out. “Tony, I give up. Abs, you’re… I don’t know what to say except Senior isn’t nice. He’s a fuckin’ con man; con men seem nice because it’s their stock in trade. They’re nice because it helps them cheat people: lie with a straight face, take advantage. ‘Oh, he’s so nice. Surely he wouldn’t cheat me.’ Take a pill an’ get over yourself.”

Abby pouted, she never would realize that her hot and cold reactions had put her in everyone’s black books. She was on the way to losing all her friends at NCIS. Gibbs just hoped she’d turn herself around.

Jimmy shook his head. “What I’d really like to know is: what was he trying to do? I don’t get it.”

Ducky answered that one. “He’s the perpetual one-upper. He’s got to be better, smarter, faster, richer than everyone around him. He ran through his father’s fortune, then Elizabeth’s, then he turned his eyes on Anthony’s. Fortunately for him, the Paddington side of the family put all his money into several trusts; divided by who it came from. He couldn’t touch the Paddington money as it remained in England. The DiNozzo money and what little was left of Elizabeth’s dowry went into a trust here in the US. Senior managed to acquire access to part of the interest, but not the principal.” Ducky took a sip of his wine. “He also has less class than an English chimney sweep.”

Jimmy winced. “And that’s saying something. I remember meeting him once. I wasn’t impressed. Way too glad-handy, and I never heard of anyone calling themselves the real thing and their son a poor copy. He’s a jerk.”

Tim decided to interject his two cents. “I ran some of his financials.” He nodded to Tony. “By request of the FBI. He’s broke. He’s been running on promises and favors for several years. Tony getting control of his trust funds and his companies has broken his back. By the way, Tony, you really ought to actually visit your companies in person. They’re mostly in poor shape, but, with some personal attention, you could really have something.”

Tony agreed, “Yeah, I know. I hate it that Senior ran all three of them into the ground. He took every penny he could and wasted it all. So, DiNozzo Trucking needs more drivers and fewer administrators. The same with Paddington Mills, I’ve heard that some of the machines are in dangerous shape. As to Paddington Farms… the manager is good; old, but still with it. All I have to do there is throw a shitload of money at it. I gave Mr. Sharp a budget and told him I expect him to spend it all. And get some bees.”

Kitty came back just then, so they dropped conversation in favor of food.

Kitty put plates in front of everyone then asked, “More toast?” A quick look at the table said yes, so she walked off to get more. 

Tony nodded at her retreating back. “Make sure to leave a good tip.”

Gibbs returned attention to the subject at hand. “Okay. We have… three days until sentencing. What I want to know is, do you really want to be there?”

Tony thought about that for a moment, munching salad as he did so. He finally swallowed and said, “I think I need to. I need to see that he’s actually going away.”

Abby made a face but didn’t say anything, although everyone could see she wanted to.

Jimmy and Ducky both just waited, while Tim kept his face carefully blank.

Gibbs just said, “I’ll be there with you. I think Vance will come as well.”

Tony ate the last of his Alfredo silently. The conversation had cast a pall over the group which led to them finishing their lunch in silence.

When they were finished eating Tony signaled Kitty for the bill. She smiled and hurried over with the check on a little black tray. “Here you go. Was everything okay?”

Tony looked at the check then put money on the tray. “Everything was fine. Thank you.” He handed the tray back. “Keep the change.”

Kitty dimpled. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

Gibbs nodded to her as he passed. “You too.”

They all made their way outside where they said their good-byes.

Gibbs and Tony parted ways at Tony’s front door. Gibbs decided to go home instead of coming in for coffee. He just parked at the front door and told Tony, “Rest. Take a shower, have some wine or something. You’ve had a hell of a day. And prepare yourself to testify at the sentencing hearing, I’ll bet you a steak dinner that Senior’s lawyer calls you as a character witness.”

“Well, he’ll get a hell of a surprise. And I’ll take you up on the steak.” Tony slammed the door on that and went inside.

.

It usually took up to two years to finish the sentencing phase of a trial. Due to the ‘egregious’ charges, the judge demanded that it take no more than six days. Tony, Gibbs, and Vance got letters in three days to let them know that the sentencing phase would be concluded on Friday, two days from receipt of the letter.

Tony conference called Vance and Gibbs to find out what they were going to do.

Vance offered, “Well, we’ll sit together for one thing. I think we also ought to have Tim, Ducky, and Jimmy there. You need the moral support. Really, your dad is going down for a very long time.”

Tony snorted his disgust. “I don’t care about that. He’s no dad to me. He’s a sperm donor at best. I’m more worried about what this is going to do to my career as a professor. I’m also planning an art exhibition, probably around Christmas. I just don’t need this aggravation at all.” He cleared his throat then added, “I know I sound petty but… I really don’t care about him any more than he cared about me.”

Gibbs’ sigh was loud. “I know. But you need to put up a good front. People will care more about appearances than reality. Don’t give them any grist for the gossip mill.”

“Okay. You’re right. I’ll try to keep my thoughts off my face.”

Vance replied to that. “You have a poker face when you want it. You’ll be fine… if you don’t lose your temper.”

Gibbs agreed and they all disconnected.

Friday came and with it all the complications of getting several people to one place at the same time.

Tim’s car had broken down so Tony drove by in his Lexus to get him.

Vance, Jimmy, and Ducky came together in Vance’s SUV with escort.

Gibbs came in his company SUV, while Abby showed up via Uber. Her hotrod had broken down yet again. She swore she was going to trade it in on a hearse. 

The sentencing was scheduled for 2 pm but Vance had recommended they get there an hour early.

.

Tony settled in his seat with a sigh. “I swear, every time I go through security here they have a spaz.”

Tim snickered. “Damn it, Tony, you… I’ve never seen anyone, not even Gibbs, carry so much weaponry.”

Gibbs blinked. “He carries more than I do?”

Vance, who had watched while Tony was checked through, nodded. “He does. It’s impressive.”

Tony shrugged elegantly. “Excellent tailoring hides a multitude of… sins.” 

Tim added, “And it’s all licensed and legal.” 

Vance grimaced, “It is. I pulled a few strings.”

Gibbs, who had also pulled a few, nodded. “No reason for him to go unprotected with a hit still out on him.”

Jimmy, who’d never heard the Macaluso story, blurted out, “Hit? What? Who?”

Tony wasn’t about to discuss a still secret operation in public said, “Later… I’ll tell you the whole sordid thing later.”

Jimmy grimaced but agreed, “Not really the place for some stories. Sorry.”

Tony reassured Jimmy, “It’s okay. I know you’re a big box of why. Almost as bad as Abby.”

“Almost?”

“You know when to let something drop. Abby’s like a dog with a rag, won’t let go until she’s satisfied.” 

The Bailiff called the court to order so they all settled down to wait for the judge to enter.

He came in from his chambers behind the bench, instructed the bailiff to seat the courtroom then said, “We are using the same jury as the trial so please have them brought in.”

This was one reason that the sentencing was so quick, Senior had demanded that the same jury be used for both trial and sentencing. The other reason was, the CIA wanted him locked up ASAP.

This was unusual, in most cases the trial jury was dismissed with thanks and the judge set a sentencing date. The date could be set up to a year in the future as this allowed the convict to put his affairs in order. Senior was complacent enough to think he was going to go free, no matter what.

The bailiff called for the jury to be brought in, then waited while they filed in. He took the slip of paper with the sentence from the jury foreman and presented it to the judge. The judge opened it and read it. He glanced at the jury then nodded to the foreman who sat back down.

“Very well. Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your service.” He nodded to the jury as a whole. “I will now read the sentence.” He cleared his throat and started reading. It took him five minutes to read the whole thing, which included sentences for fraud, theft, embezzlement, accessory to murder, treason, and espionage. He ended by saying, “All sentences to be served consecutively.” He looked over his glasses at Senior. “The total sentence will see you in prison, at Gitmo, for the rest of your natural life. Bailiff, take him into custody.” He banged his gavel then stood up and walked into his chambers.

Senior sat in his chair with a blank look as the bailiff dismissed the jury. Finally two bailiffs came in with transport chains and headed for Senior. He had a fit. He jumped up and demanded, “You stay away from me. Junior, tell him. I’m leaving right now. I’ve had enough of this.”

He tried to head for the door but one of the bailiffs grabbed him by the jacket. He pulled away and tore the side seam. This put him in an even worse temper which caused him to take an ineffectual swing at the bailiff. 

Tony just turned his back saying, “I’m done. Don’t call me about him. He’s your problem now. Do whatever you need.” And, with that comment, he made his way to a side door, followed by Vance, Gibbs, Ducky, Tim, and Jimmy.

It didn’t take long to get Senior into the shackles and headed out the door. He was hustled away, still shouting threats against the judge, jury, Tony, and anyone else he thought was responsible for his plight. Never mind that the only person to get Senior into the mess he was in was Senior himself.

Tony ignored him, headed for the parking garage. “I’m so done with him. I’ve got so much mess to clean up because he’s an irresponsible, money-grubbing, selfish piece of shit… you wouldn’t even believe.”

Gibbs shook his head. “You’ll fix it all, I know. If you need help, just ask.”

Vance agree with Gibbs and seconded the offer.

Tony said, “Thanks. I’ll probably need some computer help to sort out some of the overseas mess.”

Tim offered, “I could see if I can’t fix it? Maybe?”

“Thanks, Tim. I’ll take you up on the offer. Give me a couple of days to get everything together. The CIA will manage to pry more details out of the old goat. They’ll send it to Evan, and he’ll start the proceedings. I’ll get in touch.”

Tim nodded, then got into the Lexus. 

Abby sighed. “Well, I thought he was nice. This whole thing is a mess. I’m just… I… Gibbs?”

Gibbs just eyed Abby. She looked like she was on the verge of one of her infamous melt-downs. He wasn’t looking forward to dealing with one today.

Abby surprised everyone by just bursting into tears. She sobbed for a couple of minutes while Gibbs and Vance looked uncomfortable. Tony just looked tired.

Abby finally wailed. “I just want things to go back to the way they’re supposed to be. Is that so bad?” 

Tony sighed, “Well, that tears it. I’m done. Gibbs, come by tomorrow? Tim?”

“Got it.” Gibbs nodded.

Tim also agreed with a short nod.

“Thanks.” Tony headed for the driver’s side. It said a lot that Tim hadn’t bothered to get back out of the car when Abby decided to have another tizzy.

“Sorry, Tony. I don’t think she’s gonna change.”

“I don’t either.” Tony started the car, waved to Gibbs and Vance then drove off.

.

Tony spent the next couple of days finding out things he didn’t like. Tim had come over like he promised and done a full financial on Senior. It wasn’t exactly legal or Tony would have had Evan do it. Tim did all the things he wasn’t supposed to do, with Tony’s permission in the case of his companies. 

The financials were dismal. Senior had been sucking the companies dry to finance his wild investments in what Tony referred to as slack-jawed, fly-by-night money sucks. 

Tony sent the last of the evidence to Evan and he, Evan, started the process of re-possessing everything Senior owned to repay the frauds. 

Tim turned to Tony. “Man, I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“That your dad’s a dick. Seriously. My dad’s no prize, but I know he loves me. Even if he’s shit at showing it.” He waved a hand at the spread sheets. “This is… I can’t even.”

Tony rubbed his face. “Thanks. Now… all I have to do is figure out how to fix all this.”

“I can… um… no, I can’t. I have no idea either. Maybe you could just visit all the companies and ask?” Tim looked like he wasn’t sure whether he should just shut up or what.

Tony, however, brightened, “Tim! That’s brilliant. I will. I’ll have to make a schedule because I have to be back in town by the 15th of September when classes resume but… I can get a lot done.”

Tim shrugged and presented Tony with a schedule which allowed him to visit all his companies saying, “Here. It’s just a start but I’ve managed to cram a visit to every company into three weeks. My idea is to visit, get an overview of what needs to be done then revisit after work gets started. Might manage to get everything done within three months, but I doubt it.”

Tony flipped through the schedule then said, “Thanks. I doubt it too, but it’s a good start. Thanks so much.”

“Welcome.” Tim closed his computer then demanded. “Steaks. I thought Gibbs was coming over to make steak.”

Tony grinned at Tim. “He is. Should be here in about twenty. Let’s go start the grill.” He picked up the pre-washed potatoes he’d set out and led the way to the gazebo.

They started the grill, filled the cooler, put the potatoes in the side oven, and put the cushions on the chairs. Tony kept them in a waterproof storage to keep the rain from ruining them.

Tim settled in a chair. “This is really nice. I’m sad that you aren’t at NCIS anymore, but really glad that you fell into a honey pot, as Ducky would say.” He took a swallow of his beer then addressed the gorilla in the room. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d forgive Gibbs so easily. So… WTF?”

“Okay. I saw the look on his face the second he realized what he’d done. But I told him, years ago, that if he ever slapped me in the face, that was it. On a personal level… you know how much work polishing every single piece of wood in that barn is? And he assembled, braced, then moved every shelf in there. That’s a lot of hard, physical, boring work… a lot. So… I forgive him, but I’ll never work for him again. Satisfied?” Tony’s tone of voice said Tim had better be.

“I am. And I’m glad you’ve forgiven me. I was such a shit. But Ziva… well, I’m still scared of her. She’s just nuts. You know?”

“I do.” Tony opened a beer for himself just as Gibbs drove up. He waited until Gibbs came up the steps, then handed it to him and got another for himself.

Gibbs took the beer and settled in a seat. “I got KC Strip. They’re really nice. You put in the potatoes yet?”

Tony nodded. “I turned on the grill and put the potatoes in the side oven about… twenty minutes ago?”

They visited about this and that until Tony announced the potatoes were done. This was the signal for Gibbs to put the steaks on in the massive pre-heated cast iron frying pan.

It didn’t take long for the steaks to be done and plated. Tony added the potatoes while Tim dished up salad. They settled in to eat with more fun conversation.

Until Tim said, “I really wonder how Senior is going to manage in prison. I mean, he’s old. So… just wondered.”

Tony made a face. “I really don’t care. He didn’t care how I’d manage in a military academy meant for an entry-level age nearly twice my age.”

Gibbs grimaced. “I’m not worried about him. He’s going to some country-club site upstate.”

Tim smirked, “No, he’s not. I checked; I didn’t hack, it’s all public records information. The judge has the right to say which prison he goes to, and he sent him to Jessup Correctional Institution in Maryland. He’s not gonna be a happy bunny. But due to him being convicted of murder, he’s not eligible for a white-collar-crime bed. That’s why I was wondering.”

Tony shrugged. “Like I said, don’t care. He made his bed, let him lie in it.”

Gibbs nodded his agreement, but said, “You might want to put some money on his books, just so you don’t look like a shit. Up to you.”

Tony thought about that for a few seconds then allowed, “I’ll set up a small trust that he can’t ever touch. It’ll give him about fifty dollars a week while he’s incarcerated, and a hundred if he ever gets out. Which I doubt.”

Tim sighed, “Tony, that’ll only work if he stays in the States. If he goes to Gitmo, you can’t transfer money into Cuba.”

“And that’s my fault?”

Gibbs agreed so Tim just smiled faintly and dropped it.

They spent the rest of the evening drinking beer and talking trash. Both Tim and Gibbs wound up sleeping there.

.

Meanwhile, Senior was being checked into the DC Jail again. This time he was checked into the ‘other’ side, the side for convicted felons. He would remain there until time to transport him to Jessup, where he would serve the first part of his sentence; after that, he would be transported to Gitmo for the rest of his life. He didn’t know this, as he was just ignorant enough that he didn’t know the difference between consecutive and concurrent. And he claimed to be a very well educated man.

A guard directed Senior to a line on the floor. “Toes on the line. No talking.” He took some papers off his clipboard and handed them to Senior. “Anthony Dominic DiNozzo… Senior?”

“Yes. And how do you expect me to take papers when I’m chained up like some criminal?”

The guard just shoved the papers into his hand. “Don’t talk.”

Senior gripped the papers then grumbled, “When my lawyers hear about this there will be repercussions.”

The guard, now more bored than ever, just snapped, “What part of no talking don’t you understand? Shut the fuck up.”

Senior shut. He stood still as the senior guard took off the shackles then handed him more paperwork.

“Keep track of all that. You’ll be assigned a bunk on a level related to your charges.” At Senior’s puzzled look, he elaborated, “You’ll be quartered with people who committed similar crimes to yours.”

“I’m not a criminal. I don’t deserve this sort of treatment. I’ll have your job.” Senior eyed the guard scornfully.

The guard eyed him right back. “I don’t remember asking your opinion. Toes on the line.” He pointed to a line painted on the floor.

After that, things went just about as expected, Senior declared his status to all and sundry. All and sundry didn’t care and said so.

He spent the night in a solitary cell as at least three Hispanic men, and a couple of Neo-Nazis, threatened to shank him, just because he was a shit. 

.

Senior was awakened at 5:30 AM by a loudspeaker. It read off a list of names twice ―his was included― then ordered all the named prisoners to be waiting at their cell doors with their paperwork in order and their personal possessions in the provided plastic bag. 

Senior rolled over and went back to sleep, but he didn’t get to sleep long.

“DiNozzo! UP!” The guard opened the door and physically shook Senior. “Get up! You’ve got five minutes to get your shit together and be ready for transport. If you’re not dressed and ready, we’ll take you as you are.”

Senior eyed the guard blearily. “Wha? It’s too early. Come back later.”

“Jesus Christ! This is a jail, not a country club. You’ll get up right now. And you’re on report. Not a good way to start.” The guard slammed the door shut causing several prisoners to yell insults.

Senior got up, dressed in the lime green scrubs and scuffs he’d been given for transport then stood in front of his door wondering when breakfast was.

It turned out that, since he’d slept in, he wouldn’t get breakfast. Instead he was shackled and led to a stinking, hot, dirty bus. He started to protest but the rest of the passengers shouted him down. 

A guard walked the aisle, checking that everyone was belted in. He told everyone to shut up then went to the front and settled into his seat. The driver took off without warning, jostling everyone.

Senior bumped into his seat-mate and was told, “Keep to your side or I’ll do you some damage. Dumbass.” After a look at the man’s face, Senior decided to do as he was told.

The ride took several hours; they stopped every three so that the men could use the onboard facilities but, other than that, they stayed in their seats.

Intake was another example of Senior’s cluelessness. He demanded a private room, got himself laughed at and told to shut up, take his papers and get back in line.

He did, but grumbled and bitched under his breath until a guard told him to shut up again.

It only took him a day to annoy someone so much that they beat him up. After all, calling a member of the Mau-Maus a dirty Spic is not a good idea.

After he got out of the infirmary, he didn’t last another day. He managed to get on the wrong side of a biker gang called the East Coast Wheels of Soul. Again he got a bad beating.

The warden called Tony to see if he had any influence.

“Mr. DiNozzo, I know you and… um…”

“Just call him Senior.”

The warden sighed. “Okay. Anyway, do you have any influence with him at all?”

Tony allowed his annoyance to color his tone of voice. “No. None at all. I could try to talk to him but it’d only end in me being annoyed out of my mind and him being a smug asshole. So… no. I’ll see what I can do from a different angle. My advice is to stick him in solitary before he gets himself shanked.”

“I can’t do that. He’s never done anything to deserve it.”

“Well, shit. I’ll make a call.”

The warden thanked him, then hung up.

After some thought Tony called in a marker from an old Mob connection. He’d gotten the man visitation with his wife and kids. Marco said he owed him one. 

“Okay, Marco, my ol’ man got caught with his pants, not only down, but off. I need a small favor; I don’t want you to waste your time protecting him, his mouth would get you killed. Just spread the word that I’d really rather they didn’t kill him. After all, the dead don’t suffer. Thanks. I’ll put some money on your book in a month or so.”

Tony hung up, then put his father firmly out of his mind, forever.

He turned his attention to grading the last of the essays of the semester.

He still had to plan his visits to all the companies he owned.

..

And that’s it for this story. There’s one more but I’m really hoping it doesn’t take as long as this one did...I realize that Abby is a bit back and forth but therapy is hard. You take one step forward and two steps back. I’m not exactly sure where I’m going with her yet.

This one’s even better than the first one; Jordre and I are both agreed on that. It’s the kind of story where, even though you know there’s not much more the writer can do with it, you just want it to keep going, because you want to see what happens next. (I hope they really put a smackdown on Holden. Seems like he’s the type to knock a hole in that back wall again, just out of spite. I swear, he seems like seven different kinds of certifiable! ;D) —Jake


End file.
